


Even Though You Fool Your Soul

by Hermaline75



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Class Differences, Disguise, Highwaymen, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Oral Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Robbery, Sexual Fantasy, Switching, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-01 22:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 64
Words: 60,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10202648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermaline75/pseuds/Hermaline75
Summary: After two years of peace, the notorious highwayman known as the Shadow returns to terrorise the Asgard estate, much to the dismay of its young regent Thor.But what does the thief want with him in particular?Meanwhile, Loki takes a break from his lucrative life of crime to play a little game with an old friend. But is he the cat or the mouse?





	1. Always a First Time, Seldom a Last

**Author's Note:**

> So 'Loki as highwayman' has been an idea rattling around in my head for literally years and only now have I managed to scrape it into something vaguely story shaped.
> 
> Probably horribly historically and equestrianly inaccurate, for which I can only apologise.
> 
> And because I kept changing my mind about whose viewpoint I wanted, we're going to alternate back and forth; Loki in the odd chapters and Thor in the evens.

It was desperation that drove him to it the first time. And of course, when the years had rolled away, such an early youthful indiscretion would never even make it onto the long list of heinous crimes he was charged with.

Loki Laufeyson first became a thief on a mild September night not five miles from the place he had thought would be his home forever.

Theft was wrong. This was not a troublesome concept. It had been firmly planted in Loki's head from an early age that such actions had consequences. He remembered always the sound of a kitchen maid shrieking as the cook beat her with a wooden spoon for eating food which was not for her. Stealing was bad and wrong and would lead to punishment.

And yet, sometimes there was no choice but to steal a crumb or two when hunger struck. Clearly, the key was to steal only that which would not be missed. In that way, punishment could be avoided and much guilt besides.

And evidently, some would not miss a great deal more than others.

How his hands had trembled that first time, alone in the forest. Sleipnir scuffed at the ground, distinctly displeased by this forced stillness while Loki strained his ears for the distinctive sounds of prey.

The clopping of hooves, the sound of raucous laughter. They would be drunk, he knew, and that would hopefully make it easier. Cash would be preferred, of course. Old gold in need of a new hand. But he'd take whatever he could get.

In those days, he didn't have his fancy pistols or his comfortable mask. He had made do with a handkerchief tied around his mouth and his hat pulled low, his only weapon a heavy iron bar taken from the heap outside the blacksmith where he had spent the last of his honest money having his horse shod.

A beast he had to trust implicitly not to spook or throw him as he urged it forward into the path of the carriage, sending its own pony into a loud panic.

The driver looked up and then looked away. Loki was not here for him. And his loyalty was not enough to risk his life defending whichever fop had engaged his services that night.

"I say," said a round-faced man, sticking his head out the window. "What the devil is going on? You ought to watch where you're going."

Loki gripped his weapon tight, chest heaving.

"Money," he said, trying desperately to sound confident. "Give me your money."

To his horror, the gentleman looked positively affronted. Not frightened or shocked, but offended.

"Young man, I'm not sure if you quite know who you're talking to."

Oh, but Loki did know. Of course he knew. He had seen this man many times before when he had visited the estate. But, of course, he'd never been seen in return. Never been noticed, certainly.

That was how he knew who to target.

He slammed his bar against the side of the carriage, earning a shriek from the other occupant.

"Money! Now!"

"I am the honourable Lord Freyr and I am accompanied by my..."

"Give me your gold or I shall take your sister and hold her to ransom instead."

An empty threat. He had nowhere to go himself, let alone anywhere to conceal and retain someone as loud as Lady Freya. He remembered her voice, how it seemed to be at just the right pitch to carry through the thickest walls.

Freyr's reddened face grew stormy, lightning through sunset, and he reached for the handle of the carriage door.

Loki panicked, certain he was about to be shot or set upon with a rapier, and slammed the iron bar down upon his hand. It gave a most satisfying crack, echoing into the night, which only latterly registered in his brain as having broken the man's bones.

He yowled in pain, Freya screaming from inside the carriage and Loki almost bolted there and then, but...

"Here!" Freya yelled, followed by a clinking sound. "Here, take it. Just let us go."

Loki moved out of the way, the driver setting the pony off at as close to a gallop as it could reach, and discovered the velvet bag she'd tossed out of the window after only a few minutes searching in the roadside ditch.

He couldn't stay long. He had to go, he had to leave now, go anywhere as long as it was far, far away. They would return with dogs and hunt him down if he didn't make himself scarce.

Nudging Sleipnir with his heels, he set off into the forest, hurling the bar away and trying to feel the coins well enough to count them.

It didn't take long for him to realise it was more money than he had ever held before.

That night, travelling by starlight to the county boundary, he was seventeen, three days evicted from his home, and rich beyond his wildest dreams.

As it happened, it turned out his dreams were not particularly wild. The money was only what Freyr had won at cards that night, little enough for he was not a skilled player and Odin would hardly allow him to take more than a few courtesy hands to soothe his ego.

The coins didn't last. And though Loki tried his best to find honest work, from time to time temptation of such quick rewards grew too much and he would pack up his things, move to a new town, and spend an evening travelling back to the Asgard estate to take from the great and the good who were entertained there.

The risk grew less and less with every month since he had left. After all, who had ever looked at that scrawny stable hand and remembered him? Who could guess that he was the Shadow, the Night Thief?

Not that he always robbed there. Too often too close together and precautions began to be taken. He had to flee for his life from bullets more than once, his heart hammering in his chest, petting Sleipnir's trembling neck in desperate efforts to sooth the poor creature.

And then there were the guard parties. Men employed to help keep travellers safe by patrolling with the lords of the estate, looking for any suspicious characters. Loki would not strike when they were prowling around, though he liked to linger in the woods and watch them. And one of theit number in particular.

It amazed him now that once Thor had been his dearest friend. They had once played at hide and seek, or cache-cache as Thor called it. He had not realised it had been training for a more deadly adult version at the time.

He liked to watch Thor. It did not trouble him at first. It seemed natural to wish to see his old playmate, to revel in their different circumstances. They could never have imagined this. He thought nothing of his fascination and glee at seeing Thor ride carefully past his hiding places, thinking it the same joy he had once had at hearing Thor's scampering footsteps bound past the wardrobe he was concealed within.

Until he dreamt of a gold he reached for but could not clutch, a shining veil of such precious beauty, silk running through his fingers and finally a face that had once smiled at him, pink lips that parted so handsomely and that rocking motion of riding upon his...

His horse...

Loki had woken in a state of shock, gasping and hard, his mind racing with images of Thor sitting astride him, moving as though in a gallop, his golden skin so smooth and his body so beautiful.

He had never had such thoughts for anyone before. He knew what they were, of course. One did not live amongst animals for so long and not learn some things about how their young were produced. And he had accidentally caught glimpses of trysts before. Flashes of bare thighs, skirts hitched up and breeches yanked down to the knees. A fair few married men and women had chosen the stable as a location to meet with other paramours, from the footmen right up to duchesses and countesses.

Loki knew exactly what he dreamt of.

And once the fantasies began, it seemed they would not - or could not - stop. They ranged from happy daydreams where Thor would find him in the woods and invite him back to the estate, his former home, and fall in love with him to dark wickedness he would only turn his mind to in the depths of night, a world where Thor caught him and chained him and did as he pleased with his body and Loki loved it.

It grew too much. It frightened him. And so he resolved to stop his thieving, for good this time, and stay far away from Asgard and the right honourable Thor Odinson.

He managed to resist for two whole years before the temptation grew too much. It had been so long. They would be unprepared.

Just one or two. Then he could stop. Forever this time.

He kept telling himself that as he tied the mask that he'd somehow never got round to disposing of into place.


	2. An Unwelcome Return

Thor had been happily enjoying the first spoonful of last year's marmalade, prepared from fruit grown in his own orangerie - and what a fuss it had been having even a small glasshouse installed, what with the need for underground charcoal burners and the expense was something they could ill afford, but with rewards like this, quite as good as anything from the continent, he could not find it in himself to mind - when his breakfast was rudely interrupted by the arrival of the butler, Heimdall.

Not that this was generally a problem, but to be frank, Thor liked to have his first meal of the day in private and not with a worried face looming into view.

"Sir, I bring concerning news."

It had to be. Heimdall would never normally come to him and not his father.

"Yes?"

"There was a robbery last night. In the forest. They think it might have been _him,_ sir."

Thor felt his nostrils flare, anger rising through him. Not again... Not on his land, his responsibility. His neighbours and friends.

"Who was the victim?"

"The local magistrate, Coulson. I believe you have met, sir. He was just passing through on his way to a hearing due to take place this morning. He thought to stay closer to the court so as to be refreshed, but alas, he met a scoundrel on his way."

"Is he hurt? Was much taken?"

"I fear it is not the first time he has been threatened by ruffians, sir. The note made him seem broadly well. He does not carry money as a matter of habit, but the rogue made off with his pocket watch. He says it is not worth much."

That wasn't the point. It was the principle of the thing.

"And he is sure it was the same thief? I had rather assumed he had hanged long ago after he stopped coming."

"His description matches, sir. The tri-cornered hat, the dark gloves, the deep voice. It struck me immediately, sir. I felt I must inform you immediately."

Thor sighed.

"And rightly so. Keep this quiet, though. We do not know for sure and I will not have panic. This may be an isolated incident. And my father need not be disturbed."

"And if it is the Shadow?"

How Thor hated that name! Giving the man an air of mystery, of legend, quite unearned.

"If it is the same coward come back to ply his trade once more, I shall hunt him down myself. That will be all for now."

The Shadow... What nonsense. And what was the other one they said? The Night something. He was used to gossip, after all he could not ever be seen visiting a house with a young lady in residence without talk of engagement rushing through the county, and yet it irked him so.

It wasn't just the servants, though the maids did their share of swapping false tales about how the Shadow had robbed six coaches in one night, how he had vanished from prison cells without a trace, how his horse was taller than any other and so fierce it might rear up and strike a man dead with one blow of a terrible hoof.

No, even men and women of his social acquaintance did it, telling him of how the Shadow had robbed in three different counties one night after another and had ravished a lady whose name could not be spoken for fear of scandal for she was now quite in love with the scoundrel and wished to be whisked away into a life of wickedness with him.

It was strange how many ladies seemed to find that last one a pleasing fantasy. Then again, he had met their husbands. Perhaps a little passion seemed tempting.

But it was all nonsense. There was no evidence for such tales, certainly not in their home county, or he would have heard. And he had seen the man with his own eyes more than once, his back as he retreated, so fast that Thor could not line up a shot before he vanished.

An ordinary man, tall and slender. An ordinary horse, if highly agile and quick. No magic powers, no strange romantic motivation. Just a common thief, stealing because he could.

A thief who had seemed to target Thor's land above all other areas. Not exclusively. He had heard credible reports from other estates. And then, two years ago, the scourge had stopped, apparently permanently, and he had therefore believed the perpetrator to have either moved on or passed on. And he hadn't particularly minded which.

If it was true and he was back, why now? What had changed for him to bring him back here?

At the height of the attacks, Thor had been almost dangerously obsessed. His father had threatened to send him off on a long journey to visit distant cousins if he didn't calm down.

It got to the point where he had nightmares about it. This man was violent when provoked. How long before someone was seriously hurt? In his dreams, he chased and chased and chased but could never quite reach that shadowed figure.

His fingers itched for the feel of a bridle in his hands, to take Mjölnir out to look at the scene of the crime, what evidence he could find. Nothing useful, in all likelihood. He had tried a hundred times before.

But no. The way to prevent panic spreading was to behave as though everything was normal. Nothing amiss. He put himself to work, as usual, performing all the duties his father's failing eyesight and general frailty had left him incapable of.

It would not do to worry him about something like this. It might push him over the edge. No, it was prudent to be discreet, to keep this quiet, both for the sake of family and the surrounding area.

He would deal with it himself after dinner.


	3. An Unexpected Sight

Useless!

He'd only gotten away with a watch and the damn thing might as well have been made of tin. Barely worth pawning. He only got pennies for it in the sixth town he dared trying to get rid of it in.

No, he would have to return and find someone more suitable. Strike while they were yet unprepared, take them by surprise before there was time to employ guards or warn too many travellers.

Though it seemed too many years of his legend growing had rather scuppered him, for half the county seemed to know already of his return. Like they'd been waiting for him.

"Oh, I do hope you're not going to be out late tonight, sir," the innkeeper with whom he was staying said, hands on her ample hips. "It's so dangerous. What a dreadful business there has been up at Asgard."

"Asgard?" Loki asked, trying to sound as though he'd never heard the word before.

"Oh, yes, sir," and her readiness to jump to that particular term of address made his teeth grind. Reminded him too much of himself not so long ago. "A terrible thing. Quite shocking really."

He forced a smile.

"I am very difficult to shock, madam."

She wiped the table in front of him, though the state of the cloth she was using meant she was mainly pushing the dirt around. But that was merely a ruse to lean close, it seemed.

"Well," she said. "A few years ago, there were a lot of robberies out on the roads. No one could catch the villain behind them. It was as though he was a ghost. One moment there, the next gone. The family were so distressed. It was like a curse upon them."

"I see. So there is a thief on the loose?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing. The ghost vanished and hadn't been seen in months, maybe years, but last night... Why, out of the blue, he returned. The Shadow, they call him. I heard he hasn't aged a single day in all that time. Like he really is a phantom."

Loki held back his laughter.

"How shocking," he said. "But I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't have anything worth stealing for one thing."

How would she react if he told her he was the Shadow? Probably tell him he couldn't be. After all, the Shadow was seven feet tall and rode a red charger, not a simple grey gelding.

Poor old Sleipnir. He hadn't chosen this life. Sweet, blindly loyal idiot that he was. He thought Loki was his mother. But that could only be expected. He'd reared the silly thing after all.

It did rather spoil Loki's attempts to steel himself for another night in the forest and then for trying to get rid of stolen goods in the morning to be nuzzled quite so thoroughly before setting out into the dark.

As usual, he took a meandering route, ensuring he was seen far away and heading in the opposite direction from any scenes of future criminal activity.

He entered the forest at a random spot, choosing a likely tree to hang his bag out of sight for collection later, tying on his mask, tucking his hair firmly under his hat, changing his obvious white shirt for a dark one and making sure his weapons were close at hand.

Sleipnir's steps were almost silent on the moss as Loki steered him gently through the trees, memorising his route back and stopping when he could see the main road but crucially could not be seen himself.

He had grown used to being still over the years, regardless of the weather. He could sometimes even sleep on Sleipnir's back, resting against his neck, if pickings were slim.

This night, he waited until long after dark before there was finally the sound of movement coming down the road. Loki strained his ears. A single horse. No wheels, he thought. A lone traveller then.

He'd wait. There was no sense in robbing some penniless peddler after all.

The horse wandered past, riderless. Loki frowned. An accident perhaps? Someone thrown by their mount. That was none of his business, of course, but the beast seemed very calm for one that had been spooked.

No, here was the owner, on foot and peering into the woods left and right.

Loki's heart throbbed as he watched Thor walk past him without so much as pausing, his face stormy, evidently hunting for him, the man who had once again robbed on his land. The interim years had been very kind, Loki had to admit. He was stately now, serious and imposing. Hair tied back with a ribbon, his clothing unmistakably grand and yet not showy. Practical attire for a nighttime mission in the woods.

Dismounting from Sleipnir, Loki crept along through the trees, taking each step with great care, feeling the thrill of stalking his unknowing hunter, wondering what Thor would do if he caught him. Kill him, most likely. Or try to capture him, send him off to justice.

He ought to scare him off, Loki thought. He needed to protect himself. Self defence. Preservation.

Closer and closer, he slipped from shadow to shadow until he could soundlessly step onto the road, and put his pistol to the back of Thor's head, watching as he stiffened in shock.

"Well, well, well," he said, dropping his voice a little below his natural register. "Don't you know it's dangerous to go into the forest alone? Imagine what villains you might meet."

To his credit, Thor did not make the mistake of trying to run or fight. He remained still. Not as a rabbit though.

No, he was standing his ground.

Which meant he was likely armed.

Perhaps Loki could relieve him of that particular burden.


	4. Something Stolen

He should never have come out here alone. He hadn't even told anyone where he was going. Thor felt his hair stand on end. That voice, the muzzle of a gun pressed to his skin. He was going to die, he knew it.

"Let's take a walk together. Hands on your head."

And worse, this criminal was going to take his time about it, torture him first no doubt.

"I have no money," Thor found himself saying. "Or other goods. Only the clothes on my back."

"Of course. You were rather hoping to bump into me, I think. Aren't you lucky to have got your wish? Turn right and go into the woods. Watch your step. Place your palms against that tree."

Thor's face burned as he was thoroughly searched, his knife and guns found and removed. The man hummed a little to himself as he did it. And he was so slow about it... Like he was enjoying taking his time to touch Thor's flesh.

He thought of the stories of virtue ravished, of the thief's lust, and shivered. There had never been any mention of his taking advantage of men at his mercy but, well, why not? If he had already made one moral jump.

The touch of fingers against his nipple, through his shirt but all the same, were enough to break him.

"That's all I have," he said through gritted teeth. "I swear it."

"Now, Thor, we both know that's not quite true."

His heart pounded.

"How do you know my name?"

The gun was still pressed against him as he felt the man step closer.

"Everyone knows Master Thor around here. I learned your name when you used to hunt me through the forest with your friends. It was always so funny to see you all running in circles. But as I said... You do have something else. Not five minutes ago, I watched a beautiful horse pass by. Yours, I presume. Very fine."

Mjölnir. No, no, no, he couldn't. She was too precious to him. He'd had her since he was twelve, they had grown together. No other creature knew him so well.

"No," he said.

"What's that?"

Think, think...

"She's dangerous. She spooks easily around strangers."

It was true, for all she was calmer now, in her maturity.

"Really? And why should I not try all the same? At worst, she might flee and run wild in the forest."

"Please. She means a great deal to me."

"Evidently. I could kill you now and take her. But I won't. No, you may give me something else instead, since you insist on denying me this."

"What thing?" Thor asked, his fear rising.

"The same thing I take from any pretty one with nothing good for me. A kiss, that's all."

Thor heard his own gasp. So humiliating. So wrong. An obvious insult and a show of power. And yet it was nothing, not really. No one would ever know, for one thing. He certainly wouldn't tell and he could deny the Shadow's lies if he had to. And if it was that or Mjölnir and her safety...

"Very well," he forced out.

There was a beat of almost surprised silence.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd give in so easily. She must indeed be very valuable to you. Close your eyes and turn round, slowly. If you try to look, I shall take her."

"You are not masked?"

"I am. But I would rather you did not look upon me all the same."

Arguing or questioning was dangerous. Thor squeezed his eyes shut. Breathe, breathe, do it for her. He almost stumbled among the tree roots as he tried to turn, had to let the thief guide him. He puckered his lips and waited for it to be over.

A touch against his mouth, soft leather, the man's gloves.

"Come now, Thor. You are no youth taking his first peck. Do it properly."

He was aflame with embarrassment, forcing his muscles to relax, feeling that damned finger rub back and forth against such sensitive skin, pressing as though considering pushing inside.

And then suddenly gone, leaving a tingle in its wake that was suddenly replaced by the gentle swipe of a tongue. Thor almost flinched, lips parting in surprise, and the thief was on him, taking and taking, plunging into him, nibbling at him, letting out amused hums in a mockery of lover's moans.

But so strangely gentle. Passionate and firm, but not harsh. There was no attack here, no roughness. Thor felt like a sweet delicacy, being tasted and enjoyed, a sinful indulgence. To his horror, something stirred within him. Something which almost liked being desired so, which found pleasure even in being debased. This unknown sensation was very pleasant.

He almost leant forward to chase more when the man pulled away.

"Your payment was more than acceptable," he said, voice a little thick. "And so I shall leave you. Do not move for... Oh, at least five minutes or I shall be forced to shoot out your kneecaps. Highly painful. But all the same, I do hope we can do this again some time."

Thor recovered himself a little. Not enough to do anything stupid, but enough to scramble for a little lost pride.

"I will catch you," he announced, eyes still closed. "You cannot evade me for ever."

Laughter, from several feet away. How had he moved so silently?

"Perhaps I shall catch you first."

After several moments, he heard hoof beats and panicked, bursting out from the trees to find Mjölnir munching on whatever she had found by way of sweet grass in the verge, unharmed and undisturbed. He pat his hand against her flank and made his way to her neck, burrowing his nose against her to inhale that musky horse smell. Safe. She snorted at him, perplexed by this sudden show of affection.

He mounted with some difficulty, trembling, and set off for home. His lips felt heavy with the knowledge of what had passed, like they might blister with it.

Only once back in his own chambers, with the stable and doors secured and checked several times, did he realise the Shadow had never once cocked his pistol.

He had never really been in danger.

He groaned into his pillow, cursing himself and his own decisions from three hours ago.


	5. Shock and Memories

Loki galloped across fields and scrub land, driving Sleipnir faster and faster, panting hard.

Had that really been him? Had he really pushed Thor against a tree and taken what he wanted? Not goods or money, but fleeting contact, wicked moments in the moonlight?

He felt shaken by it. Like it had been him helpless there, not Thor. And he felt sure that at any second, he would suddenly appear from nowhere and seek revenge. He never did take well to any kind of humiliation or embarrassment and no doubt would be burning with rage by now. Now the shock had worn off.

How interesting though, how quickly he had given up and stopped fighting. For Mjölnir, of course. How he loved that mare, Sleipnir's twin.

Part of Loki wondered if part of that sentimentality was memories of the happy times they spent together learning to ride and to take care of their respective equine responsibilities. Even Loki's father had had to admit in the end that it had been better to keep Sleipnir alive by Loki's hand than to let him perish in favour of his stronger sister. Even though the mother had rejected him and refused to let him feed, Loki had persevered and risked terrible injury to milk the mare and care for the runt.

He had felt great kinship to the shaky little thing, motherless and crying out for love.

And, of course, he had wanted to be like Thor. For them to ride out together, find more excuses for their friendship. And they had, of course. And he even remembered Thor's ill-concealed jealousy at how easy it was for Loki, having fed Sleipnir from a bowl of milk and bedded down in the hay beside his skinny legs, to convince him to be saddled and bridled once he was big enough.

They'd thought Mjölnir might never be tamed. That she was too dangerous. It had taken months of careful preparation before she had finally allowed Thor to ride her. And only Thor.

If he had really tried to take her, Loki would not have been surprised to find a hoof shattering his ribs.

His lips were still alight with the sensation of the kiss. How warm and pliant Thor's mouth had been, that sense of urgency and maybe... Maybe a little matching eagerness.

No, he had imagined that. He must have. It didn't make sense.

All the same, the images kept repeating to him, over and over. Thor's closed eyes, the look of fear and anticipation, how he had almost let Loki push a finger into his mouth.

He slowed gradually, letting Sleipnir cool down to walking pace as he paused by the town boundary to transform back into himself and made his way back to the stable beside the inn. Oats, light grooming, putting away of the saddle and bridle and, of course, the traditional fight as he tried to leave.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he whispered. "You know that, you big idiot."

Sleipnir snorted and huffed but eventually seemed to decide he was tired. Much as Loki was. Exhausted.

In body, perhaps. His mind was still very much awake as he slipped into the building, front door unlocked, and made his way to his private room to lay out all that he'd taken from Thor.

Two pistols, very servicable. Old, though. Probably belonged to his father if not his grandfather, and a very handsome dagger. Were those sapphires? Surely not. Coloured glass perhaps. Beautiful all the same. Yes, he would keep this. A little trophy.

The pistols? They were not so good as his own. Older, more likely to seize or not have been cleaned correctly at some point. Not worth much. He might as well return them for all the good they would do him.

The thought made him laugh and that made him suddenly determined to actually do it. He could play with Thor some more. Sneak into the house while he was otherwise engaged, use all the secret passages to go unseen, leave the guns lovingly on his pillow with a note...

Why did the thought amuse him so? To frighten one he once called a friend and who had been the subject of such fantasies as could not be spoken of? Why did he want to tease him so?

Perhaps he wanted Thor to feel the rug pulled from under him. Perhaps he wished to let him feel what it was to want something so desperately and be denied it.

It may be dangerous to whip Thor up into a frenzy for justice and revenge, but on the other hand, it was so, so tempting and Loki was not exactly in the business of self-denial...

He fell asleep drafting his letter in his head.

_My darling Thor,_

_Please accept the return of these beautiful antiques with my compliments. While suitably masculine and imposing, I find them unfit for my particular purposes. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of bringing them back, that you may lose them to the next lucky fellow to find you wandering the woods in search of male companionship._

_The dagger, however, I have elected to keep. I shall think of you any time I plunge its hard, unyielding shaft into sweet, cleaving flesh. Not for the violence, of course, but for the intimacy of touching what has never before been touched..._


	6. An Unwanted Gift

Maybe it was obvious that Thor was furious. Everyone seemed to be instinctively avoiding him and that just made him more miserable and angry.

It probably didn't help that he internally refused point blank to tell anyone what had upset him so, not even his father.

Especially not his father. He could hardly admit to having gone out alone and been robbed of ancestral weapons. It would simultaneously worry and embarrass him that his son had been so foolish. And admitting the dagger was gone would be worst of all.

Not that Odin didn't notice something was amiss immediately upon sitting down to their daily luncheon, a ritual left over from when his mother liked to have a more relaxed meal compared to dressing for dining in the evening.

"You are troubled," he said, milky eyes fixed to a point somewhere above Thor's left shoulder.

How could he even tell? It wasn't like he could see the furrowed brow or the tense jaw Thor was sporting.

"Nay, Father, I am quite well."

"I am mostly blind, Thor, not mostly stupid. You are scraping your cutlery with far more force than is usual and I fear you are in danger of shattering your tea-cup if you put it down any harder. Indulge an old man and tell me what has you so cross."

Thor sighed. There was no point in hiding, but maybe he could deflect instead.

"Just rumours," he said. "Rumours of crime. Proving difficult to reach the bottom of. Possibly nothing, but vexing all the same."

"On our land?"

Thor picked at his food, turning it to crumbs with his fingers.

"Perhaps," he lied. "But I do not wish to cause anyone unnecessary fear or distress until I have established the facts."

"Very wise."

Thor gulped his tea and wished he had been wise just a few hours earlier. If he had only not gone out alone, if he had only not gone out at all, he would not have to be telling lies now.

He threw himself back into work in the study for the afternoon, getting through far more than he usually did. Concentrating and particularly keeping his hands busy even with a pen seemed to help, seemed to stop his mind from wandering back to last night and what had happened.

His stomach seemed to twist and his face heated every time he involuntarily thought back to it. How he had reacted, like a rabbit facing a hound. He should have let the man try to take Mjölnir. She might have struck him dead, for all the she was becoming calmer these days. He was not quite the impulsive boy of his younger days and she seemed to feel that and react accordingly.

If he could go back, he would do it all differently.

But he'd learned not to look at the past. Bad things happened, people died, hard decisions had to be made, move on, move on, move on...

He exhausted himself, which made dinner easier as he was not so able to put his father on edge though unconscious unease. Heimdall moved around them silently as usual, finally leaving the room once the port was poured. The departure of the only man who knew anything of the true secret helped Thor relax. He swirled the red liquid and read the newspaper to his father until he decided to go to bed.

Thor felt that would be a good idea too, right up until he entered his own chambers and spotted the parcel on his pillow.

He approached with a horrible sense of dread, like there was a viper waiting to strike, jerking the sheets and sending his own pistols tumbling to the floor.

The note. He lunged for it, devouring the words ferociously, his face well and truly scarlet by the time he was finished.

Such phrases, such disgusting, unmistakably lecherous terms when he would _never..._

And he had been here. The thief had penetrated his rooms, his home, his private place and was no doubt laughing about that even now.

He ran downstairs, bursting rudely into the servants' free time, the five of them leaping haphazardly to their feet at his arrival.

"Heimdall," he panted. "A word in private, if I may."

Steely eyed, Heimdall took him to his office, the row of bells upon the walls, the polish out to clean his shoes as he always did, shining them just so.

"Are the doors locked?" Thor asked.

Heimdall frowned, at a loss.

"Of course, sir. They are always locked after six in the evening."

"All of them?"

"I checked them myself, sir. What has happened? Has something been taken?"

"No," Thor said, not willing to tell his secret just yet. "No, something has been moved, that is all. Perhaps I am mistaken, or there may be a reasonable explanation, but if you don't mind... Who else has keys to the house?"

"Only myself and Sif."

And she would rather pluck out her own eyes than let a stranger come in unannounced. He had seen the way she gripped the poker when she thought so much as a mouse had got in. No one would get far. How could it be, then? He had dressed for dinner around the time that the doors were locked and the pistols had not been there. How could anyone have entered the house when it was secured?

Unless...

Unless they had already been inside when the doors were locked, had placed their cruel surprise for him and were now hiding in wait for the morning to sneak out again.

"Heimdall," he said carefully. "Finish what you were doing and bring Sif. We must take one floor each and search each room systematically. Don't worry the others. They're not in trouble. And my father is not to know."

Heimdall fixed him with a stare. He was steadfastly loyal to Odin and Thor feared that loyalty did not quite stretch to him to the same extent. But yet he nodded, jaw set.

"What do you think we will find, sir?"

"I hope nothing. I fear that there may be an intruder in the house."

Heimdall's face could scarely have been more grim had he tried.


	7. Intrusion

It was really quite funny, Loki thought, watching the lights move from room to room from the outside. Thor searching for him with the help of Heimdall no doubt and...

Well, who would it be? He'd be gone for so long that he couldn't name the servants anymore. Certainly not which of them Thor would trust to help him hunt for an uninvited guest.

Loki had been shocked by two main things upon sneaking into the grounds proper. Firstly that there was no stable boy to be seen and no evidence of one. His old job... On the one hand, he was glad that he had not been replaced, but the idea of no one having the exclusive role of taking care of the horses did not sit well with him.

Then again, when he had been occupying himself with grooming and scraping mud from around shoes, there had been five permanent residents, plus Sleipnir. Now there were only three, two trap ponies and Mjölnir, who huffed and stamped upon realising there was someone unexpected in her home. He had no intention whatsoever of going near her stall though.

Because the second thing that shocked him was that he could still pull himself up into the hay loft and from there swing out onto the stable roof, which let him simply walk along to climb in through the loose attic window.

He wasn't sure the family even knew about this cobweb-strewn square of glass. It wasn't visible from the ground. Some ancestor had obscured it when they added the stable block and it seemed to have been forgotten about over the decades. Loki had only discovered it when he was nine, playing around, climbing up onto the roof and discovering there was no lock, just a latch that could simply be lifted for him to get into the attic. It quickly became his secret, a safe place to hide in the warm and out of the rain on particularly stormy nights when even he couldn't bear the stable and didn't want to go down to his father's cottage and the awkward almost-rejection within.

It had been so easy, even after all these years, the pistols safely in a bag strapped to his chest with a belt. He'd got in and navigated his way around ancient furniture and books, even a blanket he must have filched to leave up here for really cold days, and found the ladder to the floor below.

If he was right, it was a spare bedroom that no one was likely to be in, but he still listened carefully with his ear to the floor before climbing down.

Well... Not even a spare room anymore, it seemed. The whole place was covered in dust sheets. Closed up and unused, not ready for visitors as it had always been before. Whatever had happened?

No time to dwell on it. He knew the family would be downstairs eating, Heimdall checking the doors, the other servants dealing with dinner, and so he could leisurely wander along to Thor's room, leave the pistols and get back to the attic and out again.

It was a shame really. He would have liked to see Thor's reaction in person rather than just imagine it.

Would he have flushed in embarrassment or in anger? How loudly would he have barrelled down the stairs to demand an explanation of how such a thing had happened? When they were young, he was forever coming into the kitchen, generally trying to get the cook to give him something sweet leftover from dinner. More often than not, he would then come out to the stable and share it with Loki where no one would scold them.

Did he remember such days? When Loki would borrow Thor's books and taught himself to read and write without the benefit of expensive tutelage, when they would ride together and Thor would speak freely and encourage Loki to do so too, when they were young and unrestrained and nothing seemed impossible? Thor used to say they would be friends forever. Loki had even believed him.

And then when they were sixteen, Thor had been sent away to boarding school to be completed as a gentleman and by the time he returned two years later, Loki was already gone and pursuing his life of crime.

Had he truly forgotten those happy times?

No point in wondering. He could hardly ask, not without revealing himself. And besides, it was more fun to play with him this way, knowing he'd be at a loss for how the Shadow was anticipating his every move. How the thief knew him so well, knew his house and routine, it had to be vexing him terribly.

Then again, it had been over half a decade since they had last seen each other. A lot could happen in that time. Maybe Thor could surprise him yet.

It would be such fun to find out.


	8. A Confession

In the weeks after he had failed to find anyone hiding in his home, the thefts kept happening and Thor knew his position of trying to keep things quiet was growing more and more untenable.

Everyone knew! For God's sake, everyone was speaking of it. Even Sif, who might have been his wife in another life with different circumstances, was suddenly going quiet when he entered a room as though she had not been talking about such matters with the junior maids just a moment ago.

It got so bad that he confronted her about it.

"You have to do something, sir," she said, the forthright nature he valued so much in her coming to the fore. "I know it is not all on your land, but your continued silence... It makes people uneasy."

"What can I do expect forbid travel through the woods? The detour is over ten miles and I fear the villain will not be concerned about having to travel it. He is happy enough to cross entire counties for fertile hunting ground."

"At least speak out, sir. There are some... Some hideous false rumours in the town, sir. I quickly told Hilde exactly how wrong she was, but still."

"What rumours?"

What could they be? That he was the Shadow? Ridiculous. Why would he bring such scandal upon himself? Why would he steal from his friends and neighbours? Besides, anyone who had seen the thief would surely testify that his build was significantly broader and heavier. The Shadow was slender in ways he could not imitate. Graceful too.

He frowned lightly at that last unbidden thought.

"They are rumours, sir, and I would rather not repeat them."

"Sif, you know I will not hold you responsible for other's lies."

She sighed, looking away, her blunt nails picking at her blouse sleeves.

"They say he has begun taking buttons, sir."

"Buttons?"

How ridiculous. Whatever would he want with those?

"Pearl buttons from ladies' sleeves and gold and silver ones from men's coats, sir. Any that look as though they might be valuable."

Of course. Just because his own clothes tended to be fastened with sturdy antler or brass did not mean everyone else resisted showy ones.

"But, sir, that is not what concerns me," she continued. "They say that he cuts them off, one by one, using a distinctive knife. A dagger with blue stones inlaid on it."

Thor felt his stomach drop. Yes, his knife. The one he had had made specially after...

And now it was in the hands of such a man, being used to violate innocent people so horribly. He could quite imagine the fear and humiliation of having one's jacket plucked open, button by button.

"I see," he said, voice coming out gruffly.

"I... I confess, sir, I went looking for your own dagger after I heard such stories and..."

Thor sighed. He couldn't blame her. He'd have done exactly the same thing if their places were reversed.

"Yes. It is gone. Stolen. By him. I didn't want to admit to being a victim myself, but... Well, it is true."

"Was that who we searched the house for?"

He nodded grimly. No point in pretending now.

"I wish you had told me, sir. I would have liked to have been armed."

"Well, I could not risk a dear soul like you being accused of murder if you had found him."

It felt wrong even to joke about it. She was right, he had to speak out. The Shadow was using a distinctive weapon which could be traced back to him. If he wasn't careful, people might suspect he was in cahoots with him. Every family in the area knew of their diminished income, their reduced staff numbers. Even showy demonstrations of wealth like the orangerie and the annual county ball could not disguise that they were not as wealthy as they once had been.

Maybe he really was a suspect. Maybe they thought he was stealing for himself. Or trying to have the ball cancelled to spare the expense of hosting it.

His father might keel over at such a suggestion. The annual party had been held for generations and would not stop while he had breath in his lungs for all that he did not dance any more.

Thor sighed.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Sif," he said. "I will speak out tomorrow."


	9. An Announcement

Loki was far from his lodgings when he heard the news read out. Not quite a job for an official town crier, but apparently important enough to warrant being read aloud in the square so everyone could hear it.

He had set himself up rather well this time. He had secured a room one of the county's larger boroughs, a squalid little place in reality but a thriving conurbation in its own mind, where he could come and go at all hours without anyone caring to ask questions. As friendly as the innkeeper at his last place had been, she was quite the gossip and keen to pry into his business. He felt that anything concealed in a drawer would be discovered instantly. No, it was far better to take a private room where he was responsible for his own cleaning.

It meant he was a little concerned about Sleipnir. A fine horse like him would catch the eye of any opportunistic thief in this area. He ought to know; he was one. As such, he was paying to have him kept in equine luxury in a nicer part of town, not that the great idiot appreciated it.

Goodness only knew what they thought his business was. He paid enough to keep questions at bay and spoke like a gentleman. Another fine lord with dirty secrets in the city. There were certainly enough of those about.

Still, he had travelled several towns over to sell a rather handsome set of mother-of-pearl buttons he had taken four nights ago. This was arguably the most difficult part of the job. Anyone could threaten and thieve, but getting rid of stolen goods without getting caught was far more difficult.

As such, he had rules. For a start, he never sold in the town he lived in. He never visited the same pawn shop or jeweller more than once in four or five months, giving them enough time to forget his face. He also had a few tricks to aid in that convenient forgetfulness. A flamboyant handkerchief to draw the eye away from the face; the man had a scarlet pocket square, certainly, but his features? Well... A hat to disguise his haircut or careful application of flour to his dark tresses to age himself, a little ash applied to the face with a paintbrush to give the impression of age lines. Tea to artifically tan his hands to make him a working man, powder to make him a blue-blood noble, anything to make him seem different than he was.

And, of course, the best way to get away with it was to allow himself to be stolen from. These six buttons were easily worth two guineas - their gold plating and fine setting were testament to that. He would take one for them, maybe even less. No jeweller would want to admit to handling stolen goods at the best of times and especially not to admit to deliberately underpaying their customers. A little give and take was necessary and since Loki did a great deal of taking, he decided it was only fair to let some people take from him in return. A small price to pay for greater security.

And so he had gone through the charade. The man produced his glass and examined them carefully, humming and whistling while Loki clutched the hat he had chosen in a pawn shop earlier in the day. Strangely shaped, more like a funnel than a top. That's what he would remember.

"Well, they have quite a few imperfections..."

He pretended to negotiate hard and be worn down, eventually accepting the cut down price. Still, a truly ridiculous sum when he thought of it. Enough to pay his rent for several months.

The knife was very useful both as a threat and a tool. Thank you, Thor.

No sooner had the name entered his head, it entered his ear.

"...Asgard confirms there have been thefts, with victims including the right honourable Thor Odinson. As such, they advise against unnecessary travel and suggest avoiding forests and other enclosed spaces. However, the annual Asgard ball will be going ahead as planned. News from Asgard. The Shadow rides again. Asgard confirms..."

Loki carefully walked Sleipnir around the crowd, leading him by the bridle.

The ball! He had quite forgotten. Ever the highlight of the social calendar, a chance for the great and good to play at masque. Always a time of great excitement.

Well, this year there just might be a surprise guest waiting for Thor...

What fun they would have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure - I don't know what a guinea is worth in today's money, but it seems to be a lot? I'm sorry, I just went for old timey money word. Attempts at research tried to sell me gold bullion...


	10. An Unpleasant Interview

"Why didn't you tell me?" Odin asked that evening after Heimdall had left them in private.

Thor sighed and avoided his father's gaze for no sensible reason. It wasn't like he would give anything away through eye contact.

"I didn't want to worry you. I planned to handle it myself. And when I was robbed, that just made me all the more determined."

"What did he take from you?"

And this was what he had dreaded admitting, more than anything else, more than his own foolishness or how he'd tried to hide it.

"My dagger," he said, wretchedly. "The one I had set with Mother's earrings."

Odin sighed heavily, like he was pained. Thor felt his stomach twist horribly. It was such a loss. At the time, he had been so preoccupied with... with the incident itself that the pain had not hit. It was only later than he had cursed himself for even thinking of taking it with him, for thinking it would be easy to take on the Shadow.

"I will get it back. He yet has it and is taunting me with the knowledge. When we catch him, I shall reclaim it."

"Taunting you? Why?"

Thor shrugged and added a confused sound to convey it. He was getting better at remembering to vocalise his non-verbal cues. The doctor had told him that was important to help his father adjust.

"He seemed to find it amusing to win against me when we met in the woods. I suppose because I worked so hard to capture him the last time he came to this area. I probably caused him a deal of trouble."

Odin stood and attempted to pace, one hand on the table. Thor knew that habit. He was about to have some unpleasant questions asked of him.

"Is there anyone who may have a score to settle with you, Thor? Some husband perhaps, whose wife has received inappropriate overtures from you?"

Thor felt his jaw drop. He didn't make overtures towards anyone, let alone married women. Where in the world had that accusation come from?

"No, Father. No such man exists."

"You are a young man. I understand how the world works. Temptations arise and not all marriages are happy ones."

"What exactly have you heard?"

He was angry now, getting to his feet with a loud scrape from his chair.

"Nothing. I hear nothing of your romantic life, hence my asking if that is because you are... involved with someone not free."

"Well, I am not. I am not involved with anyone. And I can think of no one with a grudge against me personally, especially not for that reason."

It shook him. His own father thought such things of him! Did that mean he had once... Surely not.

He didn't like to think of his father ever having been in love with anyone except his mother. Never mind if that was unrealistic. It felt almost like an affront to her memory to imagine that there had been anyone before her.

That was why he was being cautious in his own romantic affairs. He was too young for marriage yet, but he did not want to be with any woman other than his future wife. It was like being unfaithful in advance. He'd had kisses on occasion, while he was away at school, little things that never went too far. But only one or two.

The Shadow had been wrong. The kiss in the forest had been the most lingering and passionate of his life.

He shook himself. It was by choice, not lack of opportunity. He just hadn't met the right woman yet and felt no particular urge to do so. He had his hand to please himself with, did he not?

Maybe that would calm him a little from such insults he had borne that evening.

He took himself to bed a little early with that specific purpose, lying back in the half-light, enjoying the softness of his mattress and the crisp, cool sheets against his back, letting his mind wander in search of a suitable fantasy.

Imaginary hands caressing his body, lips against his neck... He shivered, stroking up his own thigh as his cock began to stir.

Eyes closed as he raked his blunt fingernails through the coarse hair, picturing some unseen lover teasing him so, touching him so close to where he wanted, but not close enough...

Would he beg them? Maybe. Or maybe he would cling to his pride, refuse, let them drive him higher and higher, more and more wanting until he finally broke.

He imagined them leaning forward to kiss him, soft lips tasting him so hungrily...

His eyes flashed open in horror, sitting up in shock, the sheets pooling around his waist.

Had he truly just imagined _that_ kiss in such a situation? And his cock had practically jumped at it.

What was wrong with him? Imagining his enemy in such a situation, in a position of power over him? No. No, if it were to happen, on some other plane of existence, he would be the one in control.

The Shadow would kneel for him, and he would see him fully, every inch of his face revealed. What would he look like? Would he be handsome?

It didn't matter. A mouth was a mouth after all.

Thor had never had such pleasures, but that did not quell his desire, imagining thrusting between those lips that had violated him, gripping that dark hair in a fist, paying him back for all the shame and humiliation he had wrought.

He spilled as he pictured stilling that wicked tongue by stuffing the Shadow's own glove between his teeth and throwing him upon the bed.

The aftermath left him with mixed feelings. He should not be imagining such things about any man, let alone that villain.

Fantasies were nothing, though. Harmless. What happened in the privacy of his own skull hardly reflected his real morals or wants. Even for one like the Shadow, he doubted he could really be so rough in reality.

Besides, such thoughts would never come to anything anyway.


	11. The Past and Present

Well, Thor's little piece of advice for travellers had certainly made Loki's life more difficult. There had been the odd pistol before of course, but now most carriages had both an armed driver and a guard.

Loki might be reckless at times, but he was not stupid. He watched potential victim after potential victim pass by before sighing and accepting he would have to hunt further afield for a little while.

He ended up spending a few more nights under the stars than he usually did. He had to travel during the day and lie in wait for the cover of darkness and then there was no time to get back to his lodgings.

It was riskier. Local law enforcement would search the forest first after thefts. But as long as he made his escape route unclear, he didn't worry too much.

And, of course, Sleipnir loved it. It was almost like the old days when Loki slept in the stable more often than not. It had been part of his job, being close to the horses at all hours of the day in case of thieves or sickness. It had been a kindness, really, letting him work on the same estate as his father. If it had been up to Laufey, he'd have been sent off to some kind of home for motherless children.

He remembered moving to the estate as a young child, barely, though he didn't recall where they had lived before that.

Three things stood out from his memory of his father asking for work at Asgard - Thor, of course, who was so loud and cheerful and boisterous at five years old; how clean everything was in the house, so much cleaner than anything he had ever seen; and Frigga.

Loki never knew his mother. Not that she was dead. Or she might be by now; he didn't know and had never tried very hard to find out. His parents had not been married and Laufey had reluctantly agreed to take care of his spawn so as to spare her the shame of being an unwed mother. Loki remembered so clearly how Frigga had smiled at him and suggested he could learn from the old ostler how to take care of the horses while his father took up the farming role he was angling for.

It suited Loki well. He was closer to a house servant than one of the farm hands and he very rarely had to actually see his father except on Sundays.

He was convinced that Frigga didn't know Odin had thrown him out after Laufey died.

Maybe that was a slightly unfair way of looking at it. Odin had invited him to leave, talking of economics, a need to reduce expenditure on the estate, how Loki was young and skilled and therefore more likely to find employment elsewhere than some might be. Other servants were having to leave, and now Laufey had passed, there was nothing particularly tying Loki to Asgard. It made sense. And, of course, Sleipnir was his to take away.

But Loki knew why he was really asked to leave. He was friends with Thor and that was not acceptable. The divide between the landowners and the workers needed to be kept strong. Odin respected those around him in the house, trusted them, liked them probably, and yet even the butler Heimdall was not his friend as such. Thor was away at school. When he returned, Loki would be gone.

Nice and neat.

Loki tried not to muse on such things too much. He had broken from the role assigned to him, after all. He had not found a new master. He was his own master.

And he was already plotting his appearance at the ball. What a triumph it would be, a stablehand and thief standing alongside the very people he tried to steal from.

Speaking of which...

He peered out as a carriage passed. Single pony, driver, no sign of preparation. Exactly what he was looking for.

Loki nudged Sleipnir forward and drew his pistol to give chase. Even a few coins might make this night worth it.


	12. Masking Emotions

Organising the ball seemed to get more complicated every year, Thor thought. More so this year. Though the Shadow appeared to have moved county, Thor expected him to be merely biding his time. He would not miss such an opportunity as the ball, even if attendance seemed to be lower than usual this year.

Well, more economy at Asgard. Less food required.

Security would be paramount, though of course he could not inflict the indignity of armed checks on his guests. Instead, Thor planned to have Sif on the door, verifying identities. No one would get past her.

In the meantime, Thor was restless. He wanted this over and done with, he wanted things to be resolved and the Shadow to face justice.

He wanted to see the face of the man whose voice kept haunting his dreams in a way that was beginning to distress him. He tried to rationalise it. What was manifesting as sexual lust was clearly just testament to his determination to capture him.

Riding out alone, deliberately putting himself in danger under pretence of guarding the forest, Thor knew he was like some kind of lovesick maiden. Where was the Shadow? Why did he not return? Had he truly been scared away?

Which was a good thing, of course. Thor did not want people to risk robbery or assault on his land.

And yet, he felt the sting of unfinished business. Something unresolved. Something he needed to complete.

And he hadn't quite decided on a mask. He would have an old suit of his father's re-tailored, something red and gold. What was red and gold? A phoenix perhaps?

His father didn't want anything too fancy. He'd have the stately dark grey he had worn for the past two occasions.

The local tailor loved this time of year. It was a welcome boost in revenue even just to make a jacket fit Thor a little better and craft him a suitable mask. They had brought out all their ribbons and baubles for his inspection and jumped at his idea.

"Oh, yes, sir. We had a delivery of feathers just this morning, white dove plumes ready to be dyed and painted to any shade."

He let them shape the base of the mask to his face, the seamstress sketching a rough design and fetching bobbins of scarlet thread to begin her work.

It would be very impressive, very suitable for one of the hosts to wear.

And the phoenix was apt, perhaps? Years of being careful with money, reducing the household staff to a skeleton crew and making careful investments had meant they were beginning to be prosperous again. He'd indulged in the orangerie, certainly, but he wouldn't have done so if they could not afford it. And he told himself that it had put food on the glassmakers' tables.

He grew more excited as the night of the ball grew close, the food being delivered, the temporary staff engaged, Heimdall running everyone through their paces to ensure everything would be the perfect picture of efficiency.

His mask was perfect. He'd known it would be. Bright and beautiful, showy but not ostentatious. Hopefully it would be appreciated by his guests. He would put on a good performance where his father didn't feel able.

Sif looked very fine in her dark Sunday dress, meeting arrivals at the door, insisting on taking their cards and checking their names, asking politely for masks to be removed. Just a precaution.

Thor found it difficult to relax. Everyone had brought their valuables inside and he had specifically employed guards for the stable block, but he was still nervous, gazing round the faces seated at the meal, trying fruitlessly to name each person.

He couldn't, of course. There were simply too many and they were all disguised. But the moment the last mouthful of treacle tart was swallowed and the tables began to be cleared, he made his way to Sif's side for her report.

"There was not a name I did not recognise, sir," she said. "Certainly, for the meal, there are no unexpected guests. No one arrived alone, so unless he's a nobleman... Or has engaged a lady's services for the evening."

Thor nodded grimly.

"There may be later arrivals for the dancing," he said. "I trust you to remain vigilant. Thank you."

If he didn't know himself better, he'd almost say he was disappointed.

But that was quite ridiculous. Evidently.

The smoother the night could go, the better.


	13. Making an Entrance

Loki had seen his mask in a junk shop and knew he had to have it. Perfection, ideal for what he wanted. It would cover his face completely, even his eyes. But Thor would know him from his voice. He knew it.

It took the shop boy a while to climb up the cluttered shelves in order to retrieve it, but Loki was willing to wait and to pay more than it was probably worth.

The beak, the large circular eyes of smoked glass, yes, perfect. A plague mask... How fitting for the scourge of Asgard to come dressed for an outbreak.

A simple, black outfit, tailored to better accentuate his lean figure. That was all he needed to appear every inch the invited gentleman. And his coat let him keep the dagger to hand and out of sight. He might need it, after all, should problems arise.

Thor would have employed guards, he knew. He could hardly go in the front entrance, or risk taking Sleipnir in with him. No, the horse could have a night off. It would take a long while to walk through the forest, but he could to it. He would be late, as planned, entering while the party was loud and full of motion.

It wasn't hard to scale the garden wall in a neglected place, the crumbling surface giving handholds for him. But getting inside...

Guards at the stable, looking after all the guests' horses. How could he slip past them to gain access to the roof and then the attic? A distraction was needed, but what?

His eyes fell upon a new addition to the grounds, a great glass house. A rock would make short work of one of those panes.

No. No, such destruction was obvious and crass and would raise the alarm far too early. Surely there was something else he could do. Something small and strange, but not necessarily alarming.

Weren't there apples around here somewhere? Little wrinkled crab things, sour to the point of near inedibility, but he knew how much Mjölnir coveted them. She would do anything for them.

He picked several by feel in the dark, enough to send her into catatonic happiness, and sidled around the edge of the stable to push one through the feeding chute and down into her hay trough.

It took her a moment to notice, but he soon heard the crunching. Delicious, apparently.

Another quickly went the same way and then there was the sound of her gently nudging the wall, requesting more from this mysterious apple-bearing benefactor.

Now the dangerous part. A lot of people didn't realise how hard horses could bite. Loki had almost lost his fingers several times over the years through sheer carelessness and now he was going to put his hand within reach of Mjölnir's powerful jaws before pulling away, denying her the treat that had been so freely offered before.

Careful, careful... The angle was bad for his arm, making him have to brace against the wall, trying his best to keep his hand flat to reduce the risk of being crunched on himself.

The very second he felt a warm, damp puff of air, he whipped his arm out, hoping that the reaction would be just as he hoped.

After the briefest of pauses, Mjölnir snorted and stamped and then shrieked in rage, a hideous, horrible noise that had the two men guarding the horses crying out in alarm.

Loki shoved his remaining apples through into the trough as a reward for unwittingly helping him before rushing round to scramble up into the hayloft among the commotion.

"Fetch Master Thor," one of the men called as Loki swung his body up onto the roof before ducking down our of sight just in case one of them looked up. "It's a monster, this one. It'll kill us before we calm it."

Loki watched as one man ran off in the dark and seized his moment to scamper along the roof and ease the window open. Inside. And that was the hardest part.

He paused as he pulled his mask on, leaving the bag he'd carried it in behind to collect some other time. He would have liked a mirror to check that his appearance was suitably imposing, but that couldn't be helped. As he intended to leave via the front entrance, he had to climb on the furniture to push the ladder back up into the attic, just in case someone came into the unused room to dust and questioned its presence.

And then downstairs, the gentle tones of chamber strings echoing in the hallway as Loki snuck in through one of the smaller doorways.

The gasp was out of him before he even realised.

He had seen many things in his time, but this was still stunning. Even through the somewhat shaded view afforded by his mask, the room was a swirl of colour, all imaginable shades of gowns and jackets, a whole menagerie of beasts and birds dancing together.

He simply observed for several minutes, in the shadows, before he spotted Thor walking back into the room. He must have been out to tend his horse, for his face was visibly tense before he carefully replaced a beautiful red and gold feathered headpiece over his expression, hiding his emotions away.

For a while, Loki watched him wander and mingle, a glowing eagle politely declining offers to dance by the look of things, before he helpfully separated himself from the crowd. Looking for the Shadow, no doubt.

Well, perhaps he ought to be put out of his misery. If he couldn't spot his quarry, maybe it was time to give him a little help.

Loki's hand found his stolen dagger, hidden away in an inner pocket and began stalking his way around the room.


	14. An Interloper

"Hey, hey," Thor said soothingly, trying to calm Mjölnir down even as his heart filled with dread. "What's happened? What has got into you?"

She huffed and snorted, almost like she was embarrassed, and Thor could smell the apples on her, could see the little fruits in the trough.

Someone had snuck into his grounds to feed crab apples to his horse. But why? What possible gain could be made by doing that?

Unless they'd poisoned her, of course, but he doubted that. Those were apples from their own scrubby little trees, probably picked mere moments ago. A poisoner would have brought something more appealing.

No, this was just to cause a diversion and so Thor walked back into the hall with great unease. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

He had never been especially fond of dancing. Never been especially good at it, which had rankled him since he naturally wanted to be best at everything when he was a silly young boy. That and the fact that it was seen as a flirtation and so he was careful only to dance with ladies who were spoken for, and now not even them if he could help it after his father's discussion of women who were not free. Rumours milled faster than the finest grain, it seemed.

So he smiled and nodded and excused himself from every invitation and tried to find a vantage point from which to observe and try to spot anything amiss. Sif swore that no one had passed her since he had gone out to check on Mjölnir. He trusted her. It was unlikely that she could have missed anyone, especially in so short a time.

As such, when he first heard that laugh behind him, that low chuckle, the assumed he must have imagined it, what with his nerves so alight.

However, he was definitely not imagining the gentle prick of something sharp against his lower back.

"A wonderful party, Thor. You ought to be congratulated. No sudden movements now. We would not want an unfortunate accident."

Thor was glad his face was hidden, for where there ought to be fury or fear there was only a hot blush of shame. He was almost glad that the Shadow was here, that he was seeking him out. It showed...

It showed that he had felt something too.

No, no, no, no... Stop thinking like that. Such thoughts didn't make sense.

"How did you get in?" he asked instead, trying to focus.

"Oh, I have my little ways. But it would quite give the fun away if I were to tell you."

Thor swallowed hard, all too aware of the knife at his back, looking for his father. Safely being entertained by others of his advanced age. Good. Not wondering where his son was.

"I expect you've come to return my knife," he said, trying his luck, getting another warm laugh in return.

"Oh, but it's so pretty. I have become rather fond of it. Besides, with the blue sparkles in the hilt, it is hardly your style."

"I had it set with stones from my mother's favourite earrings after she passed."

There was a beat of silence and Thor almost thought the Shadow was shocked. Maybe he was superstitious about such trinkets, belongings of the dead. Certainly, his tongue seemed to be stilled for a moment.

"You're here to rob me again, is that it?" Thor asked.

"Not necessarily. I merely wanted to experience Asgard's legendary hospitality. Somehow, I keep meeting such unfriendly people on the road around here."

"Perhaps you shouldn't threaten and steal from them. They might like you better."

"Oh, I think some of them like me just fine."

Thor heard himself gasp. Did he know? Had he realised somehow, sensed the shameful secret?

Or was this merely a taunt? Had his reaction just given him away?

"I hope you came dressed for the occasion," he said instead, hoping to distract from the way his voice almost trembled.

"Turn around and see. But slowly."

Thor felt his heart leap. Even with a mask, he would finally see something, eyes, a jaw, that mouth which haunted him...

Instead he came face to face with the beak and wide, black eyes of a great raven. A pestilence mask. It was grotesque and cruel and vulgar and perfect.

Still, he could see some things. Height, for example. Breadth. Not a single inch of skin, all covered up in cloth and leather, but he could see long legs, lean body, arms...

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

Why _was_ he staring like that?

Thor blinked and tried to make his mouth work.


	15. Dancing

Loki's heart pounded, his eyes wide behind his mask. Thor kept looking at him, up and down. Like he was trying to chase a truth that eluded him.

Surely it had been too long. He'd changed too much. Thor couldn't possibly have realised his true identity. Not like this, not so well disguised.

He watched as Thor's eyes roamed up his body, the pink of his tongue darting out to lick his lips unconsciously.

Wait...

No, impossible. That could not mean what he thought it meant. Even still, he had to admit that suddenly his plan to force Thor to watch as he merrily danced his way through the hall and plucked jewels and coins from right under the guests' noses seemed less appealing than tasting Thor's mouth again. Maybe willingly this time?

An experiment was needed. He turned and walked away, beckoning as he headed towards the centre of the house, where the stairs were, away from the party. He could hear Thor following without question. So far, so good.

The doors swung shut, but the music still drifted out as Loki tucked the knife away and reached for Thor's hands.

"As this is a ball, I think I should like to dance," he said, placing Thor's left palm upon his waist.

There was no resistance, merely the thin line of Thor's mouth beneath his feathers, warring with himself. Loki took a step to his right, Thor's left foot following and turning, gradually taking the lead.

Did he remember this? When they were fourteen or so, Frigga had wanted Thor to learn to dance, a skill which frustrated him immensely. He had a sort of grace to him, but little by way of rhythm and so they had spent hours out in quiet areas of the estate practising. One-two-three, two-two-three, part and re-turn-two-three, twirl the lady...

School and time had taught Thor well. His hand seemed huge and warm where he held Loki's side, just a hair shy of gripping. Firm but not harsh. Loki wished he had a longer jacket or a cape, something which could rival the swirling gowns of the next room.

"What game is this?" Thor asked, suspicion deep in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you rather I robbed your guests?"

Thor looked away, some internal conflict visible upon his face.

Maybe he had not imagined that spark of want in the kiss. Want only. Mere lust. Perhaps Thor was thus inclined, inclined towards men, but hated to admit it. The embarrassment was practically visibly pouring from him.

Well, he'd come this far...

"Would you like me to kiss you again, Thor?"

The mask hid nothing. He clearly saw the widening of Thor's eyes, heard the sharp inhale. The desire was obvious, but equally so was the fact that Thor would not allow himself such a sinful indulgence. Not without a fight.

"You know, some people believe you to be in some kind of conspiracy with me," Loki said, noticing that somewhere along the line they had stopped dancing properly and were now just holding one another and turning in circles. "Quite ridiculous, of course. But I suppose if I were to appear at your party, that would be a difficult thing to explain to your guests..."

"You would coerce me?"

"Would you like to be coerced? Nothing that happens would be your fault. Nothing freely given."

He ran a gloved finger over Thor's lip and watched as he practically melted before getting a little eager, pulling him close, trying to pull his mask off.

"I want to see you," he hissed. "I need to know your face."

Loki had the dagger in his hand in a flash, forcing some distance between them even as his body sang at being so evidently desired.

"Ah-ah," he said, shaking the great bird head for emphasis. "You may touch but you may not look. Climb the stairs."

The knife was not a real threat. It was a prop to give Thor an excuse for later. So he could tell himself he hadn't succumbed so easily.

"How will you kiss me without removing your mask?" he asked, walking with slow deliberate steps.

"I shall remove it. Once you are blindfolded and restrained."

He felt Thor's hesitation. He would have to be stupid indeed to let himself be bound by a thief who might ransack his chambers. Might leave him there to be discovered, ashamed and debauched. Might hurt him even.

"Alternatively," Loki said carefully. "If you promise to be good and not to try to look at me even if I leave your hands unbound, I shall return the knife to you and not take anything this night. I swear it."

"What good are the words of a criminal?" Thor asked, opening the door to his chamber. "Is there honour amongst thieves after all?"

Loki pondered the questions for a moment while Thor found a dark cravat that would serve excellently as a blindfold, holding it out for inspection.

"Perhaps you will have to discover for yourself," he said.


	16. A Loss of Senses

This was madness and Thor knew it. He allowed the Shadow to tie the dark cravat around his closed eyes, completely blocking out the light. A brief moment of pause where he assumed the man was testing to ensure he was not cheating and then the sound of fabric rustling.

A sigh and then his hand was taken and brought forward until he felt warm flesh beneath his fingertips.

A trifle clammy from the heat of the mask, but Thor didn't care, he needed to feel all of it, skimming over smooth cheeks and the paper-thin skin of eyelids, soft brows and a high forehead, raking through long, silken hair, around a slender neck and thumbing collar bones, up to a warm, yielding mouth.

He gasped as his wandering fingers were taken between those lips, his cock twitching within his breeches as the Shadow walked him backwards to the bed.

"You can feel more in just a moment," and it thrilled him to hear that voice gone thick and breathless. "Undress for me and I will match you."

Thor's hands scrambled over buttons and buckles, letting his clothes fall unheeded to the floor, straining his ears for the whispers of cloth sliding from skin, the clank of a belt.

Footsteps, soft and quick, one-two, the mattress dipping and suddenly warm flesh pressed against him. The Shadow was straddling his stomach, one leg on either side of his body and that was where Thor began, reaching forward until he could find two bony ankles and then running his hands greedily up calf and thigh. He grabbed at hips, trying to make his hands fit there, his mind full of images of gripping right there as this lithe body bounced and jerked in his grasps.

Up further, finding the navel to prove this was indeed a human and not a demon sent to beguile him, up to ribs that became obvious to his pressing fingers, his fingers finding nipples...

"Mmm..."

It was a clearly involuntary sound and Thor almost growled to hear it. A little of his fantasies came back to him - he would reduce the Shadow's cunning words to needy moans and cries, have him babbling with want. He teased with more aim, carefully making the little buds stiffen beneath his fingers, feeling and hearing heavy breathing all around him.

He sat up slowly, gently, no sudden movements, and kissed his way clumsily from one shoulder until he could lick and suck at one nipple and then the other. A hand tangled in his hair, holding him close as the Shadow gasped, rocking in Thor's lap, his cock beginning to leak to the point that Thor could feel it against his stomach.

"You like this?"

"Mmm, Thor..."

It thrilled him to hear his name whispered so passionately, his hands driffting down to cup a surprisingly ample rear, encouraging that thrusting.

All fear had left his mind in favour of this dream made flesh, the little moans he had not imagined quite right, the feeling of little bites against his neck, his shaft rubbing infrequently against chilled skin but barely noticed for the flood of sensation everywhere else.

Sensation that suddenly included the chill of metal, the deadly prick of the dagger once again against his body.

"Lie back," the Shadow commanded breathlessly. "Let me show you how well you can trust me. The rewards will be worth it, I swear it."

Thor paused and swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

What choice did he have?

He slowly peeled back and let his body rest among the pillows, knowing that in so doing, he was exposing all the most vital and vulnerable parts of his body.

And he hadn't even got a proper kiss for his trouble...


	17. New Experiences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to storyends/darklittlestories for inspiring the (extremely mild, so mild it probably doesn't count) knifeplay.

It was better than Loki could ever have dreamt. The warmth of Thor's body, the slight clumsiness that said they were equally as unskilled and unpractised in these acts. The speed with which he had discovered how to make him moan.

And yet, the realisation came to him suddenly that he had lost control. He needed it, needed to be in charge of this. He was the one whose life was at risk, after all.

Maybe it was that which made him tighten his grip on the dagger. He hadn't ever really let go of it, swapping from hand to hand behind Thor's back, relying on the flood of sensation to distract him. Now he slid it gently down Thor's breastbone, in the valley of his chest. Not hard enough to break skin even slightly, but enough that Thor's whole body heaved with panting breath, a mixture of thwarted desire and desperate fear.

"I shan't hurt you," Loki said, beginning another long pass down his torso. "I promise. Don't you trust me?"

"No," Thor said, through gritted teeth.

Loki laughed. Well, fair enough. He was the one with the knife after all.

"We are both risking much for this," he reminded Thor softly. "You could grab me now and overpower me, have me tried and hanged before the sheets have even cooled. And I could plunge this knife into your chest and leave you here. We both need to trust that the other will not doom us. Now... Do you trust me?"

It was perhaps a little unfair. He knew Thor better than Thor knew him, after all. Or that he realised he knew him. It was far easier to trust a known quantity.

"We are mad," Thor whispered. "Or I am. This can only be madness."

"Mm," Loki agreed, hearing the unspoken acquiescence. "Pleasant though, is it not? And about to be even more so for you."

He couldn't deny being tempted to trace the knife around Thor's cock and the delicate skin there as he made his way down the bed , but he liked to think he knew when not to push his luck.

Instead he simply lowered his head and ran his tongue up the length of his shaft.

Well, turned out it was lucky that he no longer had the dagger pressed to Thor's skin. That jolt could easily have led to quite a misfortune.

He had never done this before, but he'd slept in enough questionable inns to have seen it done several times. It couldn't be terribly difficult. It was just sucking after all.

The coordination was less simple. Thor thrust upwards helplessly, seeking more, letting out the most delicious sounds, but making Loki almost choke.

He ended up putting all his weight on Thor's thighs, feeling those thick fingers sliding through his hair as he bobbed his head quickly, going hard and fast and hopefully unforgettable.

Thor tasted musky and bitter but somehow he liked it, he enjoyed reducing him to urges and wants. He had banished all his reason and sense and now had him willingly blindfolded and writhing upon such beautiful sheets even while he ought to be mingling with the great and good downstairs.

"I'm close..." Thor moaned. "Oh..."

It was fast and a shock, even though he'd known what to expect. Loki gasped for air afterwards, having swallowed without thinking, his own need burning through his skin.

"Stay still for me," he breathed, crawling back up Thor's body and taking himself in hand.

What a triumph. He sat just below Thor's chest, looking his fill. The red cheeks, lips bitten red, hair tangled and spilled across the pillow like it was shot through with threads of pure gold.

All for him, Loki thought, stroking himself faster and faster, panting for it, looking at the anticipation on Thor's face, that he knew what was about to happen and was willing...

He'd be thinking about this for weeks. They both would. Loki was sure of it.

He spilled across Thor's chest and felt as though he'd planted a flag and staked a claim on his oldest friend's flesh. His Thor. And knowing that no one else could ever drive either of them to quite such foolish acts again.

In a moment, it would all come crashing down. He knew that. But for a few seconds, everything was perfect.


	18. An Answer Given to an Unasked Question

Thor could only lie there panting as he felt the unmistakable sensation of seed hitting his chest. And then the warm body was taken away, but the mattress dipped and his face was roughly pulled to the side for kisses. Strangely soft and gentle ones at that.

His mind was empty, like someone had reached into his head and yanked it out, but as soon as the Shadow moved away from him, he seemed to catch up with himself.

Had that just happened? Had he really just... made love with such a villain?

"I need to leave. And you should get back to your guests before you are too badly missed."

Thor sat bolt upright. The ball. Surely he would be noticed to be gone by now. Someone would be asking for him, or Heimdall would have seen him go off with a stranger and not returned...

"Tell them you were taken ill," the Shadow suggested, his voice a little muffled. "You can look now."

Thor peeled back the cravat to find him still nude but wearing the plague mask once more to conceal his face. It was a very strange combination, but it didn't prevent him from gazing upon pale skin, marked in places with mottled bruising.

"What hurt you?" he asked, feeling a strange wave of protectiveness roll through him.

The Shadow looked down at his own body, as though he didn't recall without a reminder.

"Tree branches mostly. Sometimes my work requires a hasty retreat. After all, no one has managed to shoot me yet. The trees are my friends and my shield."

Thor sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest, gone cold with the spill drying upon him.

"You shouldn't steal," he said. "It's wrong. And it's dangerous. You could be killed."

A laugh, but one with no humour in it.

"None would weep for me, Thor. Believe me."

"I might."

He couldn't see the expression, but he imagined it to be one of pity as the Shadow pulled his breeches back on and reached over to cup his face.

"I'm sorry I took your knife," he said. "I did not know how valuable it was. Or that your mother had passed. She was still alive and well when I was last here."

It was so strange. The man spoke as though he had known her, and yet Thor was sure his mother had never seen so much as a glimpse of him fleeing into the forest.

"Over a year ago now," he said. "The flu. And my father never truly recovered. I believe that's why he will not have his cataracts cut out even though they grow worse and worse. He does not wish to see a world without her in it."

"She was a kind woman. I saw her, once or twice and she always seemed so to me."

Thor nodded dully. He'd heard so many platitudes, so many condolences that they had ceased to have an effect.

"I only ever wept for two people," he said, not even sure why he was bringing it up. "Her and... and a boy I once knew. A friend of my childhood."

The Shadow drew his hand away and began getting dressed, breeches first, tucking his shirt in, buckling his belt and finding his shoes.

"And what happened to him?"

"He died while I was away at school."

Thor remembered the pain so vividly. Coming home full of excitement and anticipation, wanting to share all he had learned in those long years when he couldn't even return for Christmas only to have his father summon him to the office and tell him very seriously that Laufey had died of a virulent fever. He didn't even need to say that the same had happened to Loki. Thor knew it. After all, his dearest friend would not just leave. Not without saying goodbye.

His eyes pricked with tears, mortifyingly, and he hurriedly tried to wipe them away, standing up quickly and rushing to wipe off his skin at his morning basin.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I try not to think of him too often."

The Shadow said nothing, merely pulled on his coat and checked himself in Thor's mirror before carefully putting the knife down on a bookcase and heading towards the door.

"How will I find you again?" Thor blurted.

"Find me?" the response strangely high and giddy. "I think you'll find I will find you. I'll knock, like so..."

Four taps against the door, two short, two long.

"When you hear it, you can blindfold yourself."

Thor wanted to beg him to reveal his face, wanted to tell him to give up his life of crime. He should live here, where he was safe. A million desperate thoughts tangled in his head.

Anything he could say would sound like the childish demands of some lovelorn puppy. If he was to feel that desire again, that passion, he must let the wild bird fly free.

"Goodbye, Thor."

And he so did not want to feel such finality in a simple phrase.

"Goodbye."

He flopped into his bed for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling, before rousing himself to get dressed once more and to prepare for sneaking back downstairs.


	19. Decisions, Decisions

Loki made his way down the stairs with a rock in his stomach.

Thor thought he was dead. Thor believed him dead and gone these past six or seven years.

The realisation hurt like a blow to the face.

Odin must have told him that, or at least implied it.

The colours of the ball seemed to mock him as he skirted around the outside of the crowd and pushed past the suspicious housekeeper who opened her mouth to question him, never stopping until he was safely out in the forest and could finally take his mask off and breathe.

He'd thought Thor didn't care. He thought he had forgotten all about him. But Thor had grieved for him and wept for him and kept him in the same part of his heart as his departed mother. Like they were family.

No wonder he didn't recognise his writing or his voice or all the little clues. The dead do not rise to rob the living, let alone play dangerous games of seduction and sex with them.

All that talk of knocking and secrets... Had he really meant it or was he merely placating Thor? Could he really trust him? Even without the risk of ambush, how long before Thor gave into his urge to see his face and stumbled across the truth?

There was only one logical solution. He had to leave. He had to abandon the county again, go and reinvent himself as an honest man.

And then he could return and meet Thor again and...

No, no, no. Thor liked the Shadow. The wickedness of a secret lust, the combination of male and criminal that made him so forbidden. He could hardly show up and pretend to be someone different. Thor knew his body now. He would know.

And besides, he could hardly make propositions out of the blue without suspicion falling upon him.

He had a choice to make. The risk of having Thor, even in this detached way, or never having Thor again.

What choice, in fact? Now he'd had a taste, he yearned to have it again. Like the tart berries they used to pick in the summer, he felt a little sick but only wanted more.

Living from robbery to robbery was not sustainable, he knew that, not forever. Time was unlikely to be kind on that front. One day he'd be forced to stop by creaking joints or shaking hands. And Sleipnir wouldn't be young forever either.

Maybe part of him had always expected to die from a lucky shot or on the gallows. And it hadn't really bothered him. Someone would take Sleipnir and let him live out his days as a cart horse or some such. He'd be fine.

But somehow hearing Thor speak of his death as a solid fact, a mournful reality, had sobered him. What a waste to live and die with only local thefts to his name. He wasn't even a legend or a ghost story, not anymore. He'd be forgotten within ten years. Five maybe.

Thor remembered him as he was before all of this. Young and innocent and happy. What a strange thought that was, that young boy still existing in the honeyed glow of memory.

Might as well give everyone else something to remember too.

Loki Laufeyson was dead, but the Shadow might be just beginning. More daring, bigger, riskier. National exposure. And sneak into Thor's bedroom by night for anything his sinful little heart could imagine.

A fun dream, he mused to himself. A blaze of glory, a ridiculous life and a quick death. But was that truly what he wanted?

He couldn't summon much enthusiasm even for that. He wanted to go back, a long way back, before he'd ever thought of theft. But he couldn't.

He'd come too far now.

Somehow he'd reached the edge of the forest, the town close now, and in it an inn and a bed and then perhaps sleep would still these tangled thoughts.

He could only hope.


	20. Accusations

Thor felt like a sleepwalker through the rest of the ball, certain that the smell of sweat and sex was clinging to him as he made his way downstairs. Odin retired early, leaving Thor to bid their guests goodnight, collapsing into a chair afterwards while the temporary footmen swirled around him, folding the tablecloths and sweeping the floor of any remaining crumbs.

He took his mask off to rub at his eyes, half convinced he'd dreamt the events of half the night.

"Sir," Sif whispered urgently beside him. "I saw something very strange. A man left and I swear, I did not see him enter."

Thor's eyes had fallen closed and he did not bother opening them, pretending his heart wasn't pounding with the lie he was about to tell.

"That's impossible, Sif. You must be mistaken."

"Sir, his mask was very distinctive. I would not have forgotten it. A great crow or a raven."

A carefully crafted yawn. No concern here.

"I think some guests may have changed mask after the dinner. Just someone showing off their wealth. Don't worry about it."

He daren't even look at her face. She knew him so well now that surely she would see immediately that she was lying.

And she wasn't the only one. Heimdall ambushed him in the office a few days later, just when he thought he was safe and that no one had noticed.

"You left the ball for some time, sir. I trust nothing was amiss?"

Thor startled in spite of himself, nearly spilling the tea that had so kindly been brought to him.

"Indeed. I felt a little unwell, that is all. A little too much to drink, perhaps."

Heimdall clearly didn't believe a word of that.

"Your father was a little concerned, sir. About what you might have been doing."

Thor had been resolutely refusing to let himself feel guilt. There was no risk of pregnancy, he had distracted the Shadow from robbing the guests... But the idea of his father suspecting made him feel sick. He couldn't help it.

"What does he think I was doing?" he asked.

Heimdall sighed, standing in his usual starched manner, hands behind his back.

"There are rumours that you were talking with a man just before you disappeared, sir. Of course, that means nothing, but it seems to have made his Lordship rather agitated for some reason."

Thor was suddenly offended. Not only that the thought had sprung so easily to mind but that he had voiced it to Heimdall. And there was no mistaking what they were speaking of. He drained his tea and blotted off the most recent piece of work he had been doing.

"I will speak to him immediately," he said. "I will not have my own father thinking such filth about me."

Never mind that he was correct...

Odin hadn't been himself for some time. Not since his sight had started failing and certainly not since Frigga had passed. Thor really didn't understand how he passed his days half the time. He couldn't read anymore and while he enjoyed being taken around the grounds or out onto the estate proper, he couldn't go out in poor weather or busy days when none of the staff could go with him.

It must be lonely. And boring. And on good days, Thor would sympathise and forgive his father's bluntness and difficulty, but not today.

"If you have any concerns about my lifestyle," he said, bursting into the morning room. "Then please speak to me about it. Do not ask the staff to spy on me."

Looking up from a piece of paper, Odin sighed. He had been writing the letter A over and over by the looks of things. Trying to see how large it had to be before he could read it, perhaps.

"I did not wish to insult you. But, well, you must respect my suspicions."

"I must do no such thing. What evidence do you think you have other than word I was talking with a man? Is that forbidden now? You might have told me."

"You show no interest in women."

Thor scoffed.

"I am respectful. Would you rather I were bringing shame on the house with every female I meet?"

"I would rather you showed even the slightest indication that you are not a... A confirmed bachelor. It is not the first time I have noticed such tendancies in you."

That had Thor completely non-plussed. What on Earth was he talking about? He could not think of any such event.

"What do you mean? I have never..."

"I should not bring it up. It was some years ago now. I thought you would grow out of it. Let us not speak of it any further."

That suited Thor well, for all he would have liked an apology, but he was still baffled as he stormed back up to his work. A previous occasion when his father thought he might be attracted to men? He could not think of anything. Certainly, he had never felt anything like this before. And he had previously only kissed women. Or girls, rather, since he was a boy himself at the time.

And before that, well, he had been a child. Any affection he felt for anyone had been a childish thing.

The only person he could even remember being close to was Loki. And how strange to have thought of his old friend twice in one week. But that had been different. He'd loved Loki almost as a brother and it sickened him to even think of inbuing that relationship with any kind of carnal desire. They had been children. He hadn't had words for lust or want and even less idea of what it would feel like. Maybe Loki had been less naive than him, but he didn't know.

It felt almost like disrespecting his memory to wonder.

The guilt had hold of him now. It was hypocritical in the extreme to berate his father for unfounded allegations when part of them was all too true. And not only had he been with a man, but with a thief. The very man who had been terrorising their neighbours and friends.

And should he hear that knock in the night, he could not pretend that he would raise the alarm or refuse him entry. He had not even tried to discover where he was gaining access to the house, not really.

Part of him was even suspicious that he might have keys. He could have sneaked in one day, taken Heimdall's spares and had them copied perhaps. But Sif had been at the front door on the night of the ball and the kitchen had been crawling with people. No one could have got in without being seen, which meant there must be another entrance somewhere.

How strange that he did not know all the secrets of his own house.

And he did search eventually, subtly. He checked all the ground floor windows for loose latches, the cellars for evidence of tunnels, the stables for some kind of concealed entrance. Nothing. No obvious way in at all.

He lay awake at night listening for creaks, for knocks that never came.

The last thing he expected was a letter to arrive with the morning post.


	21. A Letter

_My darling Thor,_ Loki wrote.

_Please do not think I have abandoned you or that our meeting was a one-time event. As you know, my work takes me all across the country to meet highly interesting people. Perhaps news of my latest endeavor has already reached you._

He paused to consider his tone. It ought to be flippant and playful, but he also wanted to hook Thor in and make him impatient and lustful for him. It pleased him to have such an effect.

_Be assured however that I will be close to Asgard again soon and that I will be coming for you. Alas, if you miss me in the night, you have only yourself to blame. After all, it was you who made the forest unsafe for me. But I forgive you. I would have done much the same in your place._

Yes, well. If he was in Thor's place, a place of money and security, he would never have had to steal in the first place.

Not that that was Thor's fault, of course. He hadn't been the one to tell Loki to leave. He didn't even know it had happened.

There was risk, Loki knew, in doing this. He was endangering himself every day, but also Thor by writing to him. If anyone read this letter...

Well, he could always deny everything outright. Say this was just the Shadow teasing them, mocking them. Even that it was someone else entirely, a false letter trying to besmirch his good name.

Still, he wanted to reassure his old friend, if that was possible. He needed to let him know he was serious about this affair. The thief and the nobleman. Very romantic. There ought to be songs written about them.

_Memories of our time together have been keeping me warm on the nights I find myself out beneath the stars. Perhaps you could join me one evening, though I fear your bed is more comfortable than mine._

_Still, no amount of discomfort cools me when I think of your lips and hands. I wonder if there is part of me that leaps into your mind in private moments. My mouth, perhaps._

He could practically see Thor's blushes at reading that. But there was something more he wanted to say, something more serious for all he was trying to maintain a light touch overall.

_My choices have shortened my life irreversibly, I fear. All it will take is one lucky bullet and I will come to a sudden end. As such, it is my habit to enjoy myself immensely and deny myself nothing. I hope you will happily join me in a little of this indulgence. However, when my death comes, you must not weep for me. I am already dead, you see._

Was that too obvious? Perhaps. Maybe once he had met that terrible finality, Thor would look on his face and know. Perhaps not. Maybe he wouldn't be able to bring himself to look upon the body.

Still, he did not deserve Thor's mourning now, especially not while his heart still beat.

But how to end it?

_With sinful thoughts,_

_Your Shadow_

He took it to the post office brazenly. So many people passed through, so many letters, that he trusted any attempts to recall him would fail on the off-chance that Thor went asking around.

How thrilling to be himself for once.

He was still wondering exactly how to have any kind of regular affair with Thor while also not heightening his risk of death or arrest. And then death.

Thor would try to talk him out of his career, he knew that. He'd always tried to talk him out of things he thought unwise, though he was irritatingly obstinate in going through with his own schemes, no matter how ridiculous.

There was that time he'd tried to hatch a hen's egg using his own body heat by keeping it in his shirt pocket for example. After he rolled onto the fourth one in the night, to much distress both from him and the laundress who had to deal with his sheets, he reluctantly agreed to leave it to the birds.

Oh, and then there was his mania for rain. Not amount of talk of chills or headcolds would keep him indoors if he was in one of his strange moods.

Did he still like to run shirtless in the rain, Loki wondered. Or had sense and propriety and responsibility given him too much to occupy his time and robbed him of such ridiculous pleasures?

Loki wanted to wallow and reminisce and recall every minor detail of their shared childhood. What strange little beasts they had been. What strange creatures they were now.

When had they suddenly grown up?

Remembering was more fun with two and that could never be, so Loki tried not to think on it too much. The past was the past and the future unknown. The present was the only thing that mattered.

And at present, he needed his rest. It would not do to sleep through the best of the traffic after all.


	22. A Close Encounter

Thor wanted to keep the letter, but with such evident words of lust and suggestions of lying together under the stars and indulging every desire, having it in his possession for a moment longer than it took to read would be foolish in the extreme.

Instead he took it to heart, disposed of it, and read the newspapers intently for any whisper or rumour of the Shadow's whereabouts. He just wanted to know. To think of him free and safe, even if he was still uneasy about the idea of stealing. 

It was a strange twin to how he had acted the first time round, when he had so desperately wanted to capture the thief for quite different reasons. And that made him almost wonder...

Had that been what his father had meant? That his obsession with the Shadow had been something akin to attraction or that he had behaved like a young man desperate for a glimpse of his beloved? It was almost funny to think of.

Almost.

Part of the letter would not leave him. About how the Shadow anticipated, even expected his own death. He saw it as inevitable. It hurt him viscerally to read it.

And so Thor pondered and wondered and considered how to save him. After all, he stole, yes, but not indiscriminately. And he had such wit and sharpness that surely if his mind was only turned to another purpose...

Stupid. His lust had blinded him. Victims were yet victims, even if they were not left destitute. Noble thieves were the stuff of storybooks and old songs. There was no Robin Hood stealing from the rich to feed the poor. The Shadow stole for himself alone.

Besides, with his talk of freedom beneath the night sky and no responsibilities, no one to answer to, what could Thor realistically offer him? The life of a servant for appearance's sake? Heimdall would see through him in seconds no doubt. Besides, what wild beast would willingly make a pet of itself, give up freedom for the promise of petting and praise?

And food and security and affection, of course, but would that be enough?

He needed more to offer. Something better.

Then again, he could probably offer the world and the Shadow would just laugh and disappear. For goodness' sake, he didn't know the man's name or face. He might walk past him at any time and not know.

Why was he even wondering about this in the first place? Attraction was not affection, after all. All those little endearments were just games, mockeries of the real thing. They might well want each other, but they might not like each other's personalities at all.

Besides, if he kept letting his mind wander like this, he'd fall behind on his work and then he wouldn't be able to offer anything to anyone.

Even Mjölnir seemed to sense something had changed for him when he took her out to tour the estate, his father seated in the pony trap alongside. They had once tried to convince her to pull it but the harness had been lucky to survive after she charged off in it and Thor somehow couldn't bring himself to leave her in the stable when he was out and about.

But she was uncharacteristically relaxed this day, positively gentle as they walked by fields and through forests. It was pleasant in the sunshine, the leaves creating tapestries in all green for them to enjoy, shielding them from the worst of the heat. Normally she hated being forced to walk at the sedate pace of any kind of vehicle and Thor found himself petting her neck and offering little coos of encouragement.

"Tell me of the clouds," Odin asked, eyes closed against the brightness, one of the few things his eyes could yet detect easily.

"Fluffy and light in the east," Thor said, squinting up. "Though the west looks like a storm is brewing. Nothing yet, but overnight perhaps."

"Hmm. I don't feel the wind."

"A combination of the trees' protection and it's distance to us, Father. You'll hear it tonight and smell it tomorrow, mark my words."

It always amazed him, the level of respect his father commanded. As they passed by, the men in the fields took off their hats and Thor knew it was not for him. He diligently told Odin everyone he recognised.

"Williams and his eldest. Samuel, I think. He's looking strong, that boy. Seems like only yesterday he was a child. He thinking of his own family soon, if the way he's looking at Christina Wimslow is anything to judge by."

Odin chuckled and waved. He liked to take an interest. There were a few babies named after him around the estate, Thor believed. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

He frowned as he squinted at another figure on horseback over by the edge of the field.

"Do they have some kind of overseer here?"

"Not to my knowledge. You see the accounts these days. Maybe someone's just gotten too big for their breeches."

The sun was in Thor's eyes. He couldn't make out the face, or must more than a silhouette.

"They have dark hair, I think."

And suddenly his father was agitated, sitting up urgently.

"What's the matter?" Thor asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Very convincing. Thor whistled to Samuel and gave him a farthing to take the trap on, not listening to his father's protests that nothing was wrong.

"I'll just go and talk to him. He might be looking for work or something. Or lost, perhaps."

His lying was equally poor, but he had his suspicions now. Reports of the Shadow generally described dark hair just visible beneath a tri-cornered hat, and certainly the body hair he had seen was black. Could it be?

As soon as he steered Mjölnir down one of the tracks between the field, the figure bolted and Thor _knew._ It was him, it had to be.

He just had to catch up.


	23. Discussion

All he'd been doing was giving Sleipnir a bit of exercise and now they were bounding through the forest like the Devil himself was after them.

Of course, worse, it was Thor. If he'd known the Lord and regent would be passing, he'd never have gone so close to the estate, even if Thor did look dashing in his white shirt, open at the neck to let his collarbones glimpse the sun.

He'd thought if he remained still that he wouldn't be seen against the sunlight, but alas, no. And he had no idea what was lurking among these particular trees if he were to stray off the path. He didn't exactly relish the idea of plunging into an unexpected pond, or worse, a hole that might injure poor Sleipnir, who no doubt thought this the most terrific game.

"Wait," he heard Thor call somewhere behind him. "Wait!"

No, no, no, he'd already seen quite enough!

But while he was used to racing away at speed, he also thought Mjölnir might have the advantage on stamina over steady ground. Unless he managed to give Thor the slip, he would never outrun him on this terrain.

This was risky...

He pulled Sleipnir to a huffing, puffing stop and pulled out his handkerchief, placing it flat over his entire face and holding it with one hand. Not exactly a mask, but it would do.

Thor rode up alongside him, breathless, Mjölnir stamping her feet at the sight of her long-lost brother.

"It is you," he whispered.

"Leave me be, Thor."

Loki could almost hear the look of curiosity, Thor warring with himself, wanting to pull the fabric away.

"You know you can trust me," and, oh, wasn't that voice tempting, all deep and enticing like that?

But he had not changed so much that Thor wouldn't recognise the boy of sixteen in the man he was now. And then so many other things would be called into question.

"I prefer the mystery of it," he said, trying to sound like he wasn't worrying at all.

There were a few beats of silence and he desperately wanted to see Thor's face, try to read his expression.

"I got your letter."

"Did you like it?"

"You are very morbid."

Loki sighed and turned away, face still in his hand.

"I have to be realistic."

He almost flinched at the touch of Thor's palm to his shoulder, the gentle squeeze.

"You're wrong, you know. About already being dead. You would not kiss nearly so well if you were."

"Kiss many corpses, do you?"

Thor snorted and then let out a slight sigh.

"I would... I... That is, I realise it is not safe to talk here, but might I see you tonight?"

Loki paused and pondered. In truth, he had been intending to sneak into Thor's bedroom. And anything would be better than the conversation they were just having.

"You may not see me," he said carefully. "But if you cover your eyes again, I may find time to come and visit you."

Would that suffice? Would he leave now?

"Your father must be waiting," he prompted.

"Yes. I expect so."

More pause. Thor sighing. Loki bracing himself.

"I confess, I dearly want to see your face," Thor murmured. "To see if it matches the one I imagine. It is hardly fair that you have seen all of me and revealed nothing in return."

"Nothing?" Loki scoffed. "My body is nothing to you? Well, I shall be sure to remember that..."

"You know that is not what I meant. You said you are not in the habit of denying yourself anything. I was attempting to follow your lead. Or at least receive a true answer for why you hide away like this."

He'd always had such a weak spot for that tone, the puppy eyes flying to his memory so easily.

"I fear you will not like what you see," he said stubbornly.

"I doubt that. I felt no scars beneath my fingertips. I do not know what you might think I would dislike."

Be strong, Loki.

"It's your choice, Thor," he said. "Like this or not at all. Which I'm sure we would both consider a great waste."

He almost held his breath waiting for Thor to respond. What if he did decide to go no further?

"Might I see your lips? Or would you rather I closed my eyes before offering you a farewell kiss? Until tonight."

Hmm... Well...

"Turn away while I dismount at least."

He peeked out from behind his cloth shield, just in case Thor had tried to trick him, but he had climbed down from Mjölnir and seemed to be studying a tree with some intensity.

"Go into the woods a little," Loki said, feet hitting the road. "We had best be shielded for this."

He followed Thor's steps, careful and softened by the undergrowth before covering his face once more and inviting Thor to turn.

It felt so strange to lift the fabric that tiny bit, like a veil. And Thor's hands were on him instantly, pulling his hips closer, sliding up his body, one finger tracing over his lips.

"At last," he said. "I have dreamt of this mouth. Hated myself for it. Know that it is madness, but..."

In an effort to quiet him, Loki gently sucked on the tip of his exploring digit, enjoying the soft gasp he got in return.

"I could not believe what you did to me," he said. "What magic you could do with your tongue, better than I had imagined..."

Loki laughed. He couldn't help himself, trying to maintain some sense of control even though he could not touch in return. He let the finger go with a soft kiss.

"What else have you imagined doing with me?"

"I... That is, I..."

"You can tell me."

"Before... Before the ball, I had the most wicked fantasies."

Oh, this was fun. The right honourable Thor perhaps was even less proper than he realised.

"What did you do to me? Were you cruel and violent?"

"Sometimes. But I will not be so in reality, I promise."

"Mmm," Loki purred, Thor's shaking breath music to his ears. "Maybe I like a little cruelty from time to time. Imagine it... You blindfolded while I knelt before you, taking what you give. Or maybe I will hide my face and let you see what you do to my bo-mmph!"

Thor had crashed their mouths together and there was little Loki could do except hold on as he was groped right there, feet from the public road, one of Thor's thighs between his legs and the faintest of stirrings in his breeches.

They were both breathless when they parted, the handkerchief rumpled where their noses had been.

"Until tonight," Loki said, trying to sound unaffected. "Leave before I am tempted to make you spill right here and now. Your father must be getting worried."

"Oh. Yes. Tonight. I look forward to it."

"I don't doubt it. Perhaps the storm we're due will cover my cries."

He stood there in the woods until he was sure Thor was gone and only then did he dare emerge and hurry away.

So, Thor wanted to be rough with him, even if he wouldn't dare ask.

Perhaps some preparation was necessary.


	24. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I haven't had time go get to comments today but I am very busy and so I thought update first, replies later.

Thor rode away in something of a daze. He could barely summon up enough thought to think of an excuse for his father when he caught up with the pony trap.

"Just a passer-by. He feared that I took issue with his trespassing. Nothing to be concerned about."

"You did not know him then?"

A faint shiver ran down Thor's back. Maybe his father suspected?

"No. Ought I have?"

Odin shook his head a little more brusquely than normal. Thor was a little suspicious, but he could not bring himself to question any further. He didn't want to draw any attention to the stranger in the wood who knew him in a way no others did.

The anticipation of "soon" had been replaced by the uneasy impatience of "tonight" and if he could have wished the sun to move faster across the sky, he would. Dinner was a torture, the evening even worse as the storm finally blew in, the gentle patter of raindrops becoming a harsh lashing.

Maybe he would not come in this night. It would be unpleasant to travel like this. He might catch a chill...

Thor thought of damp, tousled hair and swallowed hard. To tangle his fingers in it, to feel those lips once more...

He knew the sight of them now. A little thin, a little pink in pale skin, concealing teeth and a red tongue that could work such wonders.

How he yearned for more! He wanted to see eyes especially. What shade were they? Blue like his own? Brown, perhaps, with that dark hair? Hazel or grey or green... Bright, certainly. His wit would sparkle in them.

He wanted to see those lips parted in ecstasy, gaze into those unknown eyes... Soon, he would. Eventually, the Shadow would let him. He would be convinced that there was no danger.

The storm was strangely soothing. The sense of being safe and dry. The knowledge that he could run out there and be drenched in seconds...

Listening to it helped distract him from the waiting, lying stock still on his bed, the dark cravat in his hand.

How long did he wait? It seemed like forever until that knock. He leapt to his feet, at the door in a flash, tying the fabric over his eyes before opening it.

"I took the liberty of leaving my horse in your stable. It felt cruel to make him get wet."

Lips against his own, pushing him back towards the bed. He hit it hard, the wind knocked from him in a laugh, trying to reach and grab.

"Patience. Let me get out of my clothes and into something you may like."

Thor had kept his breeches on just in case he didn't arrive and now struggled out of them. Something he might like? What might that be?

He got his answer when the Shadow once again climbed into his lap and pulled the cravat from his eyes.

A new mask. It covered his face, even his eyes, just a hole cut for his mouth.

"Can you see?" Thor asked.

"Just about. It's layers of net. And now you can see what you do to me..."

Thor didn't need any other encouragement. He wanted to touch every inch of skin. He wanted gasps and moans and those cries he'd mentioned in the woods.

He'd learned how sensitive the Shadow's nipples were and began there, licking and sucking gently on one and then the other, revelling in the feeling of fingers in his hair once more, holding him close.

"I thought you wanted to be rough with me?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

A dark chuckle, a scrape of nails.

"Mmm, but maybe I want you to, just a little. A firm hand, a raw touch, hard and fast..."

Thor shivered at his words. It was as though the Shadow had seen into his mind, the fantasies he used to indulge. But reality was very different.

"I want to make you spill," he said. "And know it was my hand which did it. And I know men may find pleasure in each other's bodies, though I do not know... I haven't..."

"I must confess, I have thought of you riding me hard, in both configurations. And I have been presumptuous enough to bring a little oil to ease the way, should you like to make the attempt."

Thor's mouth was dry. He knew what this was. Sodomy. An act only whispered of. And he was a little afraid.

"You... That is, you mean to..."

The Shadow grinned and leant forward to whisper in his ear.

"I mean to spread my legs and feel you inside me. As long as that is agreeable to you?"

Thor felt his mind go blank as he nodded, struck dumb by the very suggestion. There would be no going back from this.

Maybe he didn't want to go back.


	25. Indulgence

Loki was out of his depth, but desperately pretending to be confident. Much as he had enjoyed bringing Thor pleasure with his mouth, he wanted to try something a little more mutual. He wasn't about to suggest that Thor try first though. He'd probably never tried even with his own fingers before.

That particular trick had been taught to him by too many years of living in inns with thin walls. A neighbour had come home with a young lady and Loki had overheard his requests to his lover with naive shock. It could not be pleasant, he had thought, but curiosity drove him to try. It wasn't something he made a habit of, but an indulgence for particularly good nights.

And he wanted this more than he feared it. He wanted Thor inside him, joined in a way he had never been with another, as close as it was possible to be. Even though Thor was not ill-endowed, he was sure that with a little determination it could be achieved.

Thor seemed a little stunned, but he'd be interested very soon no doubt.

"I began my preparations before I came," Loki said, swaying his way over to his coat to retrieve the flask of oil he'd brought. "Thinking of you. But I think I will need more if I am to take you easily."

"You've done this before?" Thor croaked.

"Only my own fingers."

"And you... You enjoy it?"

Loki laughed as he lay down, liberally coating his fingers in slick and reaching down to where he was already a little open.

"Oh, yes. There is one spot which... Mmm, so good."

He couldn't see Thor's expression well enough to discern it, but he heard his breath hitch as he watched Loki breach himself.

Well, he ought to put on a little show...

A sigh, pumping one finger in and out carefully before adding a second and beginning to stretch.

"It will never fit," Thor said doubtfully.

"It will. I'm sure of it. I just need to be relaxed and ready. You could help, if you wish. Your fingers are larger than mine."

Thor seemed decidedly unsure, shuffling close and running his hand over Loki's thigh before slicking his index finger and experimentally pressing it inside.

What had been good by his own hand was exquisite by someone else's. Loki found his hips starting to roll, encouraging more, wanting Thor to find that sensitive spot that he needed...

"Mmm... Mm, yes. Add another, stretch me. I want your cock."

Thor let out a brief grunt that made Loki's ears prick up, even as he was gasping at the sensation of two fingers rubbing at him.

"Do dirty words excite you, Thor? Do you want to hear of how I long to be filled and pounded, how I'll beg for every inch of you?"

"Have care. You are very tempting at this moment. I want to feel this heat elsewhere."

"Then do it. I'm nearly ready."

He tried so hard to be relaxed. It would be easier that way. He could feel the warmth of Thor's body as he crawled forward, more oil, the touch of the tip against his skin.

"It will not fit."

"Try. Push."

It was like having a tree branch shoved into him. Loki tried not to sound as though he was in pain and was glad Thor wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. The hurt was intense, but Thor was moaning above him and Loki simply grit his teeth and fought through it.

At least he was going slowly. And at last, the head of his cock rubbed over that spot deep within him and Loki could not hold back his cry. The pain and pleasure combined, a new intensity, something he had never experienced before.

Still, he couldn't bear too much movement too fast, gripping Thor with his thighs to make him still.

"A moment," he gasped. "Just a moment."

Thor leant forward, Loki struggling not to whimper as he was jostled. His cock, softened a little, found a little friction against Thor's stomach, the warmth of him making him gasp into the first kiss.

This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? To have all of Thor's attention, to be forming a memory they would both take to their graves, a sense of possession that he was Thor's first.

He felt himself adjust, the tension leaving him, muscles relaxing to the point he thought he could carefully roll his hips.

Thor moaned by his ear, murmuring afterwards.

"You feel so good. Teach me how to please you. I would have you spill just like this."

"Be gentle at first. I have never taken anything so big before."

Thor chuckled and drew back, every fraction of an inch so intense and more so as he pressed back in.

"If I have my way, you will become very accustomed to this. Now I've had a taste, I doubt I shall be able to resist."

It was getting easier. Loki tried to angle himself to make Thor hit the right spot, beginning to enjoy being filled. Maybe he could get used to this.

"Then my plan has worked," he teased. "The right honourable Thor Odinson at my beck and call, unable to resist the pleasures of my body. Go harder now, make me really feel it."

Thor sat up a little, almost pulling Loki into his lap, thrusting harder, the sound of their skin meeting joining the sound of the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder.

"Enough?"

Loki knew how he must look, gripping the sheets, mouth open around moans. Thor grabbed his chin and his heart leapt, the roughness he had wanted coming out.

"Speak. If I cannot have your face, I shall have your words."

It was hard to think. His body was being shaken, desperation rolling through him, trying to reach for his aching cock.

Thor gripped his wrists in a flash, getting a whine for his trouble.

"Not until you speak to me."

Focus, focus, so close...

"More," he managed. "I want more."

Thor growled in approval and resumed his quick pace, still with his hands on Loki's wrists. He squirmed and sobbed and struggled.

"Please, Thor. Oh, please, please, let me touch..."

"You'll finish by my hand only."

Very well...

"Touch me, please. I need it, I need you to..."

Oh, relief. Blessed relief. Thor granted him that mercy, gripping his cock and stroking fast, rushing him quickly over the edge and then even further, leaving him utterly incapable of speech by the time Thor gasped and grunted and he felt the strange sensation of being spilled within.

Not that he had much time to dwell on it before Thor collapsed on top of him, mouthing at his lips.

"The end... My God, I thought you would crush me with clenching so hard."

"I fear you may crush me now."

Thor laughed, but rolled off him, catching his wrist and pulling it close to kiss.

"I fear you are a demon," he murmured against the soft inner skin. "Sent to tempt me to hell."

"Funny. I believe you just took me to heaven."

It was so difficult to pull away, but he had to. He had to leave. Otherwise Heimdall would catch him and then where would he be?

"I wish you would stay," Thor said as he wiped off his stomach and began dressing and, ouch, he would want a pillow on his saddle at this rate.

"You want to be caught with a criminal in your bed?"

Thor looked at the ceiling.

"I forget you are sometimes. There's something about you. Something familiar."

Loki didn't bother trying to reply to that, merely gave Thor a brief kiss on the lips.

"Do not try to make this into something it's not, Thor. Don't romanticise me. Just enjoy my flesh while I'm yet living to enjoy it too."

He would return soon.

Once riding wasn't agony...


	26. An Important Purchase

Thor felt as though part of him had died, some speck of innocence gone never to return. But something else had been born, maybe... Maybe something better. A new knowledge, new sensations that he had felt now.

He had known he felt lust towards the Shadow, but to have seen and heard him like that, so open, so free of the pretence he normally wore like a shield... It made him ever more determined to save him from his doom.

Was this merely his body talking? No one else had ever made him feel like this. Maybe he merely wanted to protect his lover. But was that so wrong?

If he had seen his face fully, his eyes at the moment, he might not have let him go. He might have been tempted to try to restrain him in some way. Keep him forever within his arms.

This was not love, he knew that. It was pure selfishness. He had heard the bird sing and now wanted to cage it and keep the song for himself alone, protect it from harsh weather and... and sparrowhawks and cats.

But surely it would be for his own good. This way he would live and live well as Thor's companion. A valet, perhaps. Heimdall would like that, surely. He was a stickler for tradition and disliked Thor's habit of dressing himself. It would be the perfect excuse for having a young man live closely with him. If he insisted hard enough, it ought to be easy.

Of course, his previous concerns still remained. The Shadow would likely reject his offer. He would require convincing. And it would be difficult to make him listen.

Cunning was needed. And that was the biggest problem for him. After all, he had tried to capture the Shadow for years with no success. The only reason he had this opportunity now was because the Shadow had willingly come to his home and his bed and his arms. He could not state his wants out loud because he would vanish immediately, laughing at Thor's foolishness before he even had a chance to finish his offer.

He had to remove his ability to run. He would have to tie him up.

No, no, no... The Shadow was not stupid. The moment Thor produced a rope, he would flee. It had to be something else. Or he would have to prevent him realising he was being tied.

Thor might be able to overpower him physically, but the idea of hurting him so violently turned his stomach. Bed play was one thing, and that was quite another.

However... if he could convince him to sleep, he could bind him then. If he could put him to sleep.

Well, there were means to do that, weren't there? Some people suffered from sleeplessness and took medicines for it.

It would only take a glass of wine.

Admittedly, this would completely erase any trust he had managed to gain. But if he made his case well enough, the Shadow would forgive him. If not, he'd likely never see him again.

Was it worth the risk? After all, in theory, he could never see him again every time they parted. Either by death or by simply deciding not to return for whatever reason.

He would have to judge it well.

Once the idea had entered his mind, it refused to leave. It wasn't long before Thor found himself riding into town and going to an apothecary.

"I need something to help me sleep," he said, trying not to look shifty.

"Of course, sir," he young assistant said, rushing to attend to him. "Laudanum is the most commonly used tincture. You can drink it similarly to whisky. Spiced and delicious."

Thor looked at the dark liquid, pressing his lips together.

"How long does it take to have an effect?"

"It's fast, sir. You should only take it immediately before bed. It will also ease aches and pains."

Just because he'd bought the solution didn't mean he would use it, he reasoned to himself as he handed over the money.

Just that he might.


	27. Tokens of Affection

As enjoyable as it had been at the time, Loki quickly discovered that his body had not been sufficiently prepared for his time with Thor. He felt bruised, inside and out, for all the his skin displayed few signs of actual injury. Some little patches of purpling on his wrists were about all he had to show for it.

Still, riding hurt and so he was inclined to take a few days to relax and to let himself recover. No one seemed to want to question him so long as the rent kept coming.

And no matter the pain, he couldn't help but agree with Thor that now he'd had such pleasures once, he very much wanted them again. But he would be more careful this time. Maybe he'd insist on being atop Thor so he could control speed and angle.

The new mask had worked well too. He had worried about it, especially as he'd had to make it himself to a strict deadline, but it had evidently worked. Thor was still none the wiser about his continued survival.

Sometimes the guilt gripped him a little, an emotion he was unused to feeling these days, having mostly cut it out of his life. He was leading Thor astray. He was going to let him become attached and then break his heart. Eventually, he would have to leave for good, for both their sakes.

All the more reason to enjoy themselves now, then.

He got it into his head that he ought to take Thor a gift next time. Some little thing. But what? What did Thor desire that he did not have?

It was a difficult question. When they were children, it seemed to Loki that Thor wanted for nothing. And maybe he was a little jealous that half the time he was sleeping in straw while Thor had such fine sheets and maybe he'd felt that Thor hadn't appreciated the teaching offered to him nearly as much as he should have, but he'd been so grateful that Thor had deigned to look at him, let alone be his friend, that it had all rather been overshadowed.

And he had no idea of his wants now. His adult desires. Beyond the obvious.

But it would be nice, he thought. Though naturally, Thor would not want to handle stolen goods, or anything which had been bought with the products of such an enterprise...

Food, though. Thor had always enjoyed a little indulgence in that area. Surely he could bring something good enough to tempt him. After all, there was a glass house now, no doubt growing whatever unusual fruits that could be coaxed into germinating in this soil.

He couldn't obtain such treats as that, but something more sugary might appeal.

He travelled to the big town as soon as he was comfortable enough to ride, dressing appropriately for the richer side of it. It was important to look the part, after all.

He could almost have left Sleipnir safely on the streets here, but he was not so confident as that really. Better to be safe than sorry, securing him a young guard with the promise of a worthy reward before he stepped into a bakery with a certain air of pretense about it.

The smell was divine. The scent of pastry and fruit preserve, the delicate blooms of sugared flowers atop perfect, smooth icing, the array of moulds hanging from the ceiling to promise any shape imaginable. Castles and mountains and ships...

"I'm looking for a gift," he answered when they asked what he desired. "Something special."

They showed him several delicacies. Sugar mice, candied raisins, little figurines... Beautiful, but not quite what he had in mind.

The marzipan fruit though. Tiny apples and pears painted so delicately, like the first blush of autumn had blessed them. If not for the diminutive size, they would almost look real.

And Loki couldn't deny there was something poetic in tempting Thor with apples.

They gave him them nestled like tiny eggs in a paper box, lovingly tied with silk ribbons. Exactly the kind of thing to be given to a coquettish lady. Well, perhaps an indulgent man would like it too, or at least see the funny side.

Getting it into the house a week or two later was more of a challenge. He needed both hands to climb, which meant he had to wrap the box in his mask and put it in the bag tied to his belt and hope it wouldn't get too battered on the way in.

Hopefully Thor would like them, even if they did arrive a little worse for wear.

Coming back after barely a month was probably rather forward of him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when the anticipation was rising, the excitement.

Maybe he'd get Thor on his knees this time.

He put the mask on before knocking. Ra-tat-tat-tat.

Scrabbling noises. Thor fetching his blindfold. Loki couldn't help smiling, standing there with his hips slightly swung, a obvious invitation that Thor wouldn't be able to see.

"Take it off," he said as soon as the door opened. "And I don't just mean the cravat."

He made his way to the bed by memory, lounging back against the pillows, luxuriating while Thor undressed.

"Come here. I brought you a gift."

The idea of feeding Thor from his hands... Ooh, yes. The brush of lips against fingertips, encouraging him to chase, eventually sucking the powdered sugar from his skin...

"I got you something too."

Thor seemed nervous, pouring him a small glass of spiced wine by the smell of it.

"Something to relax me?" Loki grinned, swallowing it quickly.

It burned slightly going down. Maybe more of a spirit than a wine, then.

But Thor was on the bed beside him, miles of skin revealed, obediently rolling onto his back and letting Loki press the first fruit to his mouth.

Loki wished he could see better through his mask. See the blush no doubt gracing his cheeks at being treated so, the flash of tongue as he parted his lips...

Everything was so wonderful suddenly. A warm feeling settled in his stomach, air tasting good, a sweet tingling running through him.

Was this love?

What was...

Wh...

"What have you done to me?"

Thor loomed above him and he couldn't fight it, he was so tired, his limbs so heavy and Thor was taking off the mask, no, no...

The look of shock.

The mouth opening in distress.

"Loki?"

He could only manage a strange gurgle before everything went dark.


	28. Discoveries

Thor stared at the ghost in his bed in utter shock.

This was not possible. The Shadow must just look like Loki. He couldn't possibly be him. Loki was dead, he had been for years, he'd died while he was away at school, same as his father had.

So why had he known those green eyes as they fluttered closed? Why did the familiarity of that voice suddenly have an explanation?

Thor found himself close to sobbing. What had happened to his old friend? Why had he left? Why hadn't he said goodbye? Had their friendship meant nothing to him?

All that pain and grief and he had been right there in the forest all that time...

He had to know. He had to be sure. He bound the Shadow's - Loki's? - wrists gently to the bed posts, taking off his boots but nothing else, gently turning his head onto its side to keep his breathing way clear.

He looked so peaceful. But he would be furious when he woke, and no wonder at being tricked so. And when would the drug wear off? Thor wasn't sure. Loki might sleep all night. But in the meantime, he needed to go downstairs to the study. He needed to be sure...

Pulling on night clothes and gripping a candlestick, he rushed downstairs to the office on silent feet, finding matches to illuminate the shelves. All the accounts, all the ledgers, every week on a single page with expenditure and income and notes of any particular changes.

His fingers ran along the spines, the gold-embossed years staring out at him. How long ago was it? Six years? Seven?

The year before he came back from school, when they had both been seventeen. Hadn't it been then? The events listed swam before his eyes. January, February, March, a child born to the Mathesons, April, May, repairs to the leaking farm cottage, June, a modest donation to the church fund for military veterans, July, August, the death of Laufey Ymirson from fever, September...

September...

_Loki Laufeyson dismissed._

It was right there in his father's hand. No pretence. No lies. Dry facts. Sitting barely six feet away from where Thor worked every day.

The pain hit him horribly, right in the chest.

He hadn't _known._ He hadn't ever looked. He hadn't thought to look, to confirm the death of his dearest friend. Why would he have?

And there was no indication of why. No note of anything he had done or under what logic he was sent away. All the others dismissed around that time at least had some kind of excuse - their names would have (economy) written beside them or (ill-suited to the house) or (moving on) or (leaving to be wed.) Loki did not have that. There was no reason given.

Abruptly, Thor did not know what to do. He had thought he had a plan, that he would subdue the Shadow long enough to talk to him seriously but now he knew the Shadow was Loki, everything was in a spin.

What had happened to him?

Should he confront his father about it?

Now? In the middle of the night?

That would end well, he thought bitterly. Waking his father so rudely with accusations of cruelty and injustice.

And how would he explain his sudden interest, so late? There would be intense suspicion.

With Loki bound in his bed no less...

Stupid. If he'd thought he'd learned from his youth, he was apparently gravely mistaken. He hadn't thought this through at all.

Loki would hate him for this. He probably already did, for why else target their land, target him? He must have believed him so indifferent and uncaring.

Good God, how must it have felt when Thor told him he was dead? No wonder he worked so hard to conceal his identity. At first because he was protecting himself from justice but latterly for fear Thor would drop dead of shock at seeing him, no doubt.

It hadn't sunk in yet. The man he had hated so long, who somehow became his obsession and deepest desire, was the very same friend from so long ago whom he had wept for and missed so dreadfully.

And now Loki... Loki wanted him as a lover too. He had initiated their affair with full knowledge.

A terrible suspicion was beginning to form in his mind and Thor knew he would not sleep this night. It was too much, too complex for him to think about in this stunned state.

He had a sudden urge to go outside, the feel the cool night air. The smell of the extinguished candle seemed to follow him down the stairs, finding his boots by feel to pull over sock-less feet.

The moonlight welcomed him, bright and silvery as he shivered and wandered round to the stable without thinking about it.

Sleipnir snuffled at him. Yes, Sleipnir. How had he not recognised him in the woods? Slender and faster even than Mjölnir. He should have known...

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Guilt? Shame? Shock, betrayal?

And maybe at the base of it, some kind of relief. Loki was not dead. His dearest friend yet lived. And part of him, no matter what else was rushing through his mind, couldn't help but be glad of that.

And besides he could hardly stay out here all night feeling sorry for himself. Not while at any moment Loki might wake.

He ought to be there to try to explain himself.

Exactly how he would do that, he didn't quite know.


	29. Waking Up

Loki woke as though from the deepest, most peaceful sleep. He was floating upon the softest cloud, the warmest blanket wrapped around him as he tried to roll over...

And could not.

The events of... Of how long ago? Minutes? Hours? A day? Whenever, they rushed back to him as his eyes flashed open. Thor had poisoned him. Taken off his mask. Tied him up, apparently, as he slept.

Clothes though. He was still clothed. And nothing hurt. But so much as a twinge, let alone anything harsher. Which suggested Thor had not... done anything else to him while he was unconscious.

Not that he really thought he would have. But he never would have thought Thor would feed him sleeping draughts either and, well, here they were. Maybe he didn't know his old friend as well as he thought.

Screaming would bring servants. Servants would bring the law, or worse, Odin. For now, he was trapped unless he managed to escape by slipping the ropes.

He tried to be subtle, pitching his eyes about. Was he alone? Had Thor abandoned him?

Ah, no, there he was. Sitting in a chair, wrapped in a blanket, looking like he'd entered some sort of fugue state. Awake but blank until he noticed Loki was moving, approaching with concern etched all over his face.

"Loki?"

For a moment, he considered lying. He thought about pretending he'd never heard of such a person. But there was no point, was there? Thor knew. The game was over.

"What have you done to me?" he croaked.

"I... I just wanted to talk to you, but I knew you wouldn't listen if I just came out with it so... I'm so, so sorry."

At least he had the decency to look genuinely remorseful, the shadows under his eyes speaking of a sleepness night. No wonder. It must have been quite a shock.

Was that faint redness from sleeplessness or tears? Had he wept again for his lost friend? That would be like him.

Not that Loki was ready to forgive him just yet. He didn't deserve that after this little betrayal. He turned away, staring deliberately upwards and away from that face.

"So your plan, if I understand correctly, was to bind a dangerous criminal to your bed, hoping no one would come in to clean or to tend to your chamber pot, and... And what, exactly? What did you want to talk about so badly that you felt you had to incapacitate me first?"

Thor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as though realising how ridiculous he had been.

"I wanted to ask you to give it up. The stealing, the danger... And to come and live with me here."

Loki laughed. He couldn't help it. How ridiculous!

"No wonder you needed to tie me up," he murmured. "One little romp and suddenly you're in love, is that it?"

"No," Thor protested, getting up, pacing a little and running his hands over and over through his hair. "But I... I thought maybe we were friends. Intimate friends. And I did not want my friend to die on the road if I could offer him something different."

Loki stared at his back, sighing, his head still a little fuzzy. Thirsty too.

"You didn't want to lose me again. Even though you didn't know you had me."

The bed dipped, Thor sitting down beside him and cupping his cheek.

"I didn't know," he said wretchedly. "I promise you, I didn't know you lived. I didn't question it. You were gone and I grieved and then I tried not to think about it."

Eyes still closed. If he looked at Thor's face, into that revealed, open expression, he might break.

"Will you fetch me some water, please? I'd ask for tea, but I doubt you want to risk the maid."

"We... That is, they usually take my breakfast to the study and let me eat alone unless there is urgent news. If you wished... Well, they always bring me too much. We could share it and talk properly."

Oh, Thor. So trusting.

"What's to stop me running away?"

"The promise of tea and bread. My own marmalade. We'll have to share the cup, but..."

"But you feel we have shared enough already for that not to matter."

He finally risked opening his eyes, finding Thor gazing down at him, half-concern and half-hope.

And Loki had never been particularly good at denying Thor any more than denying himself.

He sighed softly.

"Perhaps the fruit and sugar will do me good. And the tea certainly will."

Thor still hesitated a little.

"Promise not to leave without talking?"

He sounded so scared... It wasn't right for Thor to be scared. Loki tried to catch his hand with his own bound one.

"Of course."

He could decide if he meant that after a cup of hot liquid.

After all, he was the wronged party here.


	30. Breakfast

It wasn't difficult to sneak Loki downstairs. The maids generally started in the downstairs drawing rooms and didn't bother with the upper floors until after noon.

He was clearly parched, and hungry. Two and three cups of tea were gulped down and Thor could hardly butter the bread fast enough.

"Where have you been?" Thor found himself asking. "How... Have you been well?"

Loki struck him with an amused look, wiping a smear of preserve from his lips.

"You know exactly how I have been. I've been a villain and a blaggard and a deviant and a thorough thorn in your side I should imagine."

Well, yes, that was true, admittedly.

"I suppose what I meant is why? Why did you turn to stealing?"

Loki shrugged, the little smirk never quite leaving his face.

"It really is extraordinarily lucrative. Risky, yes, but I can earn enough in one night to keep me going for weeks. Besides, it was fun to hear the legend grow around me. Do you know I'm the illegitimate son of the Prince of Wales? Apparently that's why I am yet to be caught. The law turns a blind eye to my antics."

Thor sighed. He remembered this reflex of Loki's from childhood. Making jokes to hide unpleasant emotions.

"What happened?" he asked helplessly. "I would hear it from you before I confront my father about it."

A quirked eyebrow. Loki had evidently not anticipated that. Maybe he thought it unwise.

"He summoned me to his study, this very room, and explained to me how some speculations and investments had not returned and therefore some staff were being invited to leave. Sleipnir and I were free to go. Though I knew the real reason, of course."

Thor blinked at him, accepting the cup as it was passed back to him.

"What reason? What had happened?"

"You really don't know?"

How was he supposed to know? He'd been miles and miles away.

"Truly," he said, hoping Loki would stop playing with him.

He twirled a lock of his hair, mussed from sleep and the rain he must have ridden through to get here.

"Well, we were friends, weren't we? And that couldn't go on. Not when you were grown up. You had to learn. And so he sent me away."

Even though he'd suspected as much, Thor couldn't help but feel it as a blow. His father had... His parents?

"Did my mother know?" he asked urgently.

He hated to even think of that. If she had known, if she had been party to the decision to make them so unhappy.

"I don't know," Loki said. "But, well, she wasn't there when it happened. I suspect therefore that either she didn't know, or she couldn't bear to face me. It happened. The details do not especially matter."

They mattered to Thor. He was certain that she hadn't known. He didn't want to believe that she'd had.

"So, this plan of yours," Loki said, poking at the fried egg they always insisted on sending up even though such things tended to be too rich for Thor so early in the day. "What exactly would it entail?"

Ah. Yes. The plan. The offer.

It seemed so stupid now. Loki would never accept.

"I was going to ask you... That is, I was going to ask the Shadow to come and live here with me under the pretence of being my valet. I thought... I thought to protect him from the risk of prosecution or violence and that we could carry on our dalliance at the same time. And if it didn't work in the long term, I could provide a strong reference, allow him to find a good post elsewhere."

Loki's mouth had twisted strangely, his eyes downcast.

"A servant," he said bitterly. "And a whore. What aspirations you think I have."

Thor stammered and tried to explain himself.

"I didn't mean... Especially not now I know it was you under that mask the whole time, but I didn't mean it to sound so patronising. It would be a lie, of course. A pretence. You always liked those games when we were young."

There was a glint in Loki's eyes now, something Thor couldn't help but worry about. It looked somehow dangerous.

"I liked pretending that we were equals, Thor," he spat. "But we never can be. That's the truth. No matter how you pretend that I'll be just the same as you, I will still eat downstairs and will still call you 'sir' and I... I worked so hard to free myself from that damned word."

It had never occurred to Thor how insulting it must be, to be thrown crumbs as charity. Loki was right. He had to do better.

His hand found Loki's halfway across the desk they were using as a breakfast table.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Tell me what it is you want and I will do everything in my power to achieve it. Just stop putting yourself at risk. Please. I cannot bear it."

Loki stared at his hand for a moment and then up to his face, lips pursed.

And then a sigh.

"That's the problem, isn't it? I don't know what I want."


	31. An Arrangement

It really was unfair of Thor to ask such things of him when he was still reeling, both from the tincture and the shock. He could barely think straight enough to remember his own plans, let alone weigh up the merits of Thor's.

"I need to consider this," he said, sitting back in his chair. "And so do you. Do you make decisions around here? Truly? Because I doubt you will be able to convince your father to employ me again, especially if he suspects I am the Shadow."

Thor frowned again and Loki felt part of his heart melt. Oh, sweet Thor. He always wanted to see the best in everyone. He really thought that everyone was as instinctively well meaning as he was.

"He sent me away and suddenly there was a thief in the woods. Coincidence? I doubt he'd come to that conclusion. But, of course, admitting that would mean informing you of what had happened. Maybe he decided the blow in social standing was worth it."

It was horrible watching that sink in. The idea that his father would sacrifice his happiness and allow their neighbours to be robbed in order to maintain the pride of the house.

As someone who understood what it was to weigh up options and choose from equally bad ones, Loki found himself grudgingly respecting Odin. He'd made the hard decisions. He had not flinched from them.

"He lied to me," Thor murmured.

"All parents lie."

It was true. Maybe only about small things generally, but still true.

"Don't. Don't defend him. You always did like giving the contrary response, even if you didn't believe in it."

True again. If they kept this up, they'd fall dangerously out of the habit of concealment.

Loki sighed to himself.

"You cannot confront him out of nowhere," he said. "That would be too suspicious. If we are going to give this a try - and I haven't decided if we are yet - it should appear organic and deniable. I ought to reappear with a plausible story. An alibi for the past few years."

He watched Thor set his jaw, and knew there was about to be a dispute.

"I would have it out of him," he insisted. "I have the ledger there, the one that proves he lied."

"Yes, Thor, and then my sudden reappearance would not look at all prearranged."

A pout that the part of him not preparing for a headache longed to kiss away. He stood up, determined to actually leave.

"I will write," he said. "In my own hand, with my own name. I will think of something, some reason to be in contact. And then you can have your excuse for a good old-fashioned family argument."

Thor still didn't seem thrilled, but at least he seemed to be taking things on board.

"When will I see you again?"

Loki took a deep breath. That was the question, wasn't it?

"I'm not sure," he said evenly. Truthfully. "It depends. On many things."

Thor had looked away from him, troubled.

"I'm not sure if I trust you to come back."

That might be fair, Loki supposed. He didn't have to like it though, pulling Thor to his feet.

"Can I trust you not to poison me again?" he threw back, just to watch Thor squirm.

"I'm sorry. I was desperate."

It was difficult to argue with that, and he did seem genuinely remorseful.

"Well... I know a thing or two about that."

A sad smile, a lean in, the press of lips.

Mmm. It was different to kiss without masks. Loki even opened his eyes, even though all he could see was a blur of pink skin and golden lashes.

"Go downstairs," he whispered. "I intend to keep my entrance way a secret."

"Aha..." Thor said. "I knew it. You _can_ fly through walls."

How could they even laugh? It was absurd.

How could he be offered his old fantasy and yet not be quite sure he wanted it?

The realisation struck him as he and Sleipnir crept out, going slowly, step by step to make the sound of hooves hitting earth as minimal as possible. This was one of the things he'd one dreamed of, wasn't it? Thor finding him and inviting him to come home, complete with unlikely romantic overtones.

Romantic?! Oh, what was wrong with him? Being drugged into unconsciousness, his face revealed against his will, that was not romance. It was Thor making decisions for him, just as Odin had done, just as generations of lords did for servants everywhere.

Yes, he wanted Thor. Yes, he felt a degree of soft, warm emotion for him. But it had been so long, they'd both changed so much...

But what else did he have? Wasn't this the ultimate disguise? The Shadow vanishing into the night, disappearing like smoke? And maybe he was a little less cavalier with his own skin than he liked to pretend anyway.

He needed to think. He needed to go back to his own space, away from Thor and the gravity that seemed to exist around him, pulling Loki closer and closer.

It needed to be planned carefully. And he needed to do the planning as evidently Thor would act first and deal with obstacles when he got to them. Which was all well and good, but hardly sustainable.

Odin was the biggest of those obstacles. If Loki was right and he had suspicions as to the true identity of the Shadow, then he could hardly just forge a letter of recommendation. He needed a real one.

So his choices could include actually getting a real job in a big house, biding his time, getting a proper reference. That was a long game though. Would Thor be willing to wait that long?

Would Loki? After all, he'd been wanting and pining and dreaming much longer. The idea of putting off their relationship, even for as much as a year, didn't exactly sit well with him.

What other options were there? How could he get a reference without Odin being able to deduce that it was false, or at least exaggerated?

How did he get everything he wanted?


	32. Action and Inaction

The knowledge burned in Thor like a scalding, like a bite. Something he was desperate to scratch and yet knew he couldn't if he wanted to get better.

He tried to behave as though nothing had changed. As though he had not learned of such an awful betrayal. He spoke normally, read normally, reacted as always and pretended all the while that he wasn't just waiting for the day that the truth would come out.

The post became the most important thing in his life. And it burned him to be unable to send any words of encouragement or affection. He had no address. He had to fight to stay strong and hope Loki was too.

Still, when the first letter arrived, his heart couldn't help but soar at even a few lines.

_Thor,_

_I am working hard to achieve what we discussed. Have hit some problems. Nothing I cannot charm my way out of._

_If I can, I will visit you soon. In the meantime, dream of me._

So vague. So minimal. No words of affection or even a name at the end.

And yet... And yet there was more written in what was not written than the actual words, if that made sense. Thor couldn't help but worry. What was Loki getting himself into?

If only he could contact him to offer support. To find out what the problem was and give advice. Not that Loki would listen. He was much too freespirited for that.

And dreaming was the least of his concerns. Maybe it was just the flush of new love, but Thor felt his every waking moment was spent thinking of Loki and half his unconscious ones as well.

How would he make up for everything Loki had gone through? He would do his best to fulfill his every whim, to make him see life was worth it, to prove that the quieter path could be just as fulfilling as his dashing years on the road.

Loki had already revealed that he could enjoy a little roughness, but Thor couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't like to be in control on occasion.

It was an aspect of himself he had never noticed before Loki - as the Shadow - had come into his life, this desire to be ordered around and to cede power to another. Maybe it was only natural; after all, he had so much responsibility in the rest of his life, looking after the estate and his father, that the idea of letting go, of giving up to someone he wanted and trusted appealed to some deep part of him.

Having Loki's hands close around his wrists and pin them... Spreading his legs, or letting Loki arrange him however he wished... The deep, searching kisses and the sharp need to climax and the release of permission... The more he thought of it, the more he longed for the day that Loki would be with him, trying to build something together.

He would submit to Loki's whims and enjoy it immensely and when Loki wanted him to take charge... Well, he had already learned how wondrous that was.

The fact that he could do nothing to speed along the arrival of their reunion sat ill with him. After all, he was always a man of action and drive. Sitting still and waiting was not easy.

How could he help from such a distance?

Well, he could try to make Loki's eventual arrival easier. Prepare a bedroom close to his own, find the old passageways that were seldom used anymore and work on them, cleaning out cobwebs and dust.

Strange old remnants... Back in his grandfather or great-grandfather's day, there had been a ridiculous rule that servants were not to be seen. The core of the house had a warren of internal tunnels to allow them to scurry around like little mice. Thor didn't like it much and was glad that most of them had long ago been blocked up.

However, now that he wanted a pathway for his lover to enter his chamber unseen, he began to respect his ancestors' ideas a little more. Perhaps there had been others down the centuries being visited in the night by forbidden partners.

Perhaps he ought to decorate the stark plaster walls, he mused. Make it a more inviting journey. Loki was sensitive to their different stations and while Thor imagined he would be unable to deny the practicality, using a servant's corridor might rankle his pride. A secret just for them, though... That could appeal a little more.

What had Loki loved in their youth? Books and talking, learning in general. Perhaps he could hang maps or other clever things. A hidden path, not a servant's one.

It certainly kept him busy in his spare time. Between that and riding out into the forest in case Loki should come visiting, he tried to limit how long he could be lonesome for in a day.

But Loki was long gone, it seemed. There was no word of the Shadow for weeks, not so much as a whisper.

And Thor couldn't help but be a little worried about that, desperate for news.

It came in another note.

_Thor,_

_Expect me Wednesday. Be ready._

Well... There was little mistaking the meaning of that.


	33. Seeking

Loki had always laughed and told himself that thieving was easy, and yet he had not realised just how difficult reinventing himself as an honest man was going to be.

He had met many other thieves in his day. Not deliberately, but as a matter of happenstance. He had undoubtedly met all kinds of them over the years, from petty pickpockets to violent housebreakers. And maybe he was a little over proud, arrogant maybe, as he felt he was above all of them.

It made sense. But he was an artisan, of sorts. He took his time to craft identities and routes and the whole idea of the Shadow. Not for him, the blunt force of window-breaking or the cruel employment of child thieves. He was beyond that.

And yet there were people more skilled than him. Those who managed to steal so openly and so obviously and yet no one thought to arrest them.

Thief kings and princes. Dynasties of them. Queens and princesses too. And they had networks and fronts and were able to conceal where the money came from. They were respectable almost. They could help him, for the right price no doubt.

But of course, they did not live the way they did by being easy to find.

Tracking one down took him a long time. Chasing whispers, following rumours. And it was hardly risk free. His disguises were tested like never before. He was not exactly in the habit of revealing himself as a member of the thieving community and now suddenly he was asking troublesome questions, the kind that make people suspicious.

Dangerous. Expensive, forcing him to run around all over the country almost. He saw more boring fields and forests than he had ever thought existed.

He missed Thor. It was strange to admit it. They had only been reunited for a few hours in reality and yet all the promise of their lives now lay heavily upon him. Years of friendship, years of separation and misunderstanding and now the potential of this new era of passion.

That was what kept him going. Thinking of how Thor was offering him something no one else could - a way out, a safe escape. And maybe a warm bed and soft feelings and all those other things Loki hadn't thought would ever come his way.

It was nice to be wanted. Thor had been the only one who ever really wanted him - his mother and father certainly hadn't.

Sleipnir wanted him, he supposed. Or needed him to take care of him. And that wasn't quite the same thing.

Weeks of searching finally got him what appeared to be a serviceable codeword - hawthorn. He'd been shimmied into the back room of a dozen inns. Whoever Hawthorn was, his reach was far. No one would take Loki to him though. That seemed to be a step too far.

He kept trying. Kept chasing. He needed to meet Hawthorn to meet a noble who would falsify a reference for him, no questions asked.

It would not come cheap. That much was certain.

He daren't write to Thor about the details. No need to expose him to any more risk than strictly necessary.

But perseverance - and likely certain monitoring by Hawthorn's people - finally paid off.

No big reveal. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Just a man approaching him one evening, sitting at his little table in the cheap inn without invitation.

"I hear you're looking for Hawthorn."

Loki blinked once or twice and tried to subtly take in exactly who was sitting opposite him. A man, slightly smaller than he was in height but vastly broader, dark brown hair, a sense of vague quiet threat that might be deserved or feigned.

"I am," Loki said guardedly.

"For what purpose?"

"I need something specific."

"And you're willing to pay?"

Something about the tone put Loki on edge.

"Depends what the price is."

It seemed he might have passed some sort of test. The man smiled and nodded to some unseen figure behind him.

"Good. She doesn't like desperation. Finish your drink and I'll take you to her."


	34. Preparations

Wednesday rolled around and Thor was beside himself in panic. What if Loki didn't appear? What if sonething had happened to him? What if he just decided not to come after all?

What if he did come but just to call a halt to their affair? What if he'd changed his mind and didn't want to pursue any kind of a life together?

He tried to be rational and calm himself. The note had told him to be ready. He assumed that meant physically... And why would Loki ask that if he meant to stop?

Unless it was a way to say goodbye...

It was not helpful to think like this. He desperately wanted to exhaust himself, but at the same time, he didn't want to be too tired to perform properly. It was quite a conundrum.

Fortunately, his distraction seemed to make everyone believe he must be ill and he was sent off to bed without needing to think of an excuse.

It was difficult to tell if he was excited or terrified as he reached for the oil he'd bought in the village while uncharacteristically collecting the rest of their groceries in place of Sif. A medium bottle, small enough that he could conceal it by his bed. If anyone asked, he'd say it was to help massage his aching muscles after long days in the saddle.

Thick and a little cloying in smell, it felt strange enough between his fingertips. Inside, it was only going to be stranger.

Thinking too much about it was liable to make him too afraid. He ought to just try. There was nothing else for it.

Rubbing a slick finger around the outside was... nice, actually. Surprisingly so. The skin was sensitive in a way he hadn't expected, soft and yet tense beneath his touch. A deep breath and he made his first attempt to press inside.

No. No, no, no. Every nerve was burning, like rope burn, such pain rushing through him. How had Loki found this pleasurable? How did anyone?

Perhaps he was being too rough? Perhaps he wasn't quite ready. He did his best to go back to gentle circles, focusing on his breathing, trying his best to be calm and receptive.

Several tries later and he finally managed to breach himself without being hurt. Only with one finger and only the very end of it, but it still felt like a triumph. He experimented, stroking inside, trying to weaken his body's attempts to reject this before pressing deeper still.

Panting and sweating, finally he managed to slide his index finger all the way inside, gasping at how warm it seemed, recognising the clenching he had felt in Loki's body within himself.

It was amazing enough in itself, but finding the right spot to...

"Oh!"

Well. That was quite a discovery. How long had he been alive and yet had not known he had quite such a sensitive place right in his own body?

For several minutes, maybe even half an hour, he focused exclusively on this new development. It created the strangest reactions in his body - made his length twitch and leak. Just as Loki's had. How ridiculous that he'd thought those visual signs had come from attraction and not action.

After a while, he felt ready to try two fingers, to attempt stretching, which was an experience all its own. Despite the burn, he almost found the pain gratifying and using more oil to ease the way made it easier and the sense of being filled made him eager...

By the time he heard Loki's distinctive knock, he had to be in quite a state. Very visibly, if the speed with which Loki's eyes darkened as he entered the room was anything to go by.

"You got my note, then," he purred, pushing Thor backwards from the threshold. "Mmm... And followed my instructions to the letter."

In front of anyone else, Thor would be embarrassed to be seen like this - so vulnerable, cock hard, thighs slick and shiny - but the effect he had on Loki made any thought of trying to hide himself flee in favour of submitting before his proprietary gaze.

A flush had grown across those high cheekbones, lips parted, almost ripping his way out of his clothes. A small part of Thor had wanted to talk first, to find out how he had been, how his quest was going, but instead he just spread his legs for Loki to crawl between, reaching down to test just how open and slick he was.

Maybe Loki had just had more practice, or maybe there was something about having someone else touch him, but it was somehow even better to feel Loki's fingers rather than his own.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Loki asked. "Not even by yourself."

"Never," Thor admitted. "But it's... Oh! Ah, there..."

Loki grinned at him, leaning close, brushing their noses together.

"Mmm... I like the idea of being your first."

"Was I yours?"

A beat of quiet, just their panting breathing filling the air.

"Yes, as it happens."

"Well, then I suppose it's only fair..."

He didn't want to admit how much he liked the mutuality of it, the simple fact that by chance, they had each happened to wait for the other.

That thought was not especially helpful in terms of trying not to worry as he glanced down at Loki's cock though and tried to stay calm about the idea of it entering his body.

Loki seemed to notice his concern, his predatory look growing just a little softer.

"Hey," he murmured, kissing his neck. "Just relax. Trust me."

Thor took a deep breath and nodded for him to begin.


	35. A First

After the week or two he'd had, Loki was determined to enjoy himself immensely upon seeing Thor again.

However, given his relative inexperience and nervousness, there was no reason that gentleness couldn't be a main part of their time together.

Kisses, for a start. How Thor loved kisses and how thrilling to have discovered that to be so.

He almost seemed hungry tonight, striving for more, like he was afraid to let their lips part for even a moment. Or maybe he was trying to distract himself from the imminent attempt they would make together.

Holding him in suspense was cruel. It would be much better to try, to discover just how effective his first-time preparation had been.

Lining up was easy, but Thor immediately gasped and tensed and Loki knew there was no point in even trying to push inside. It would only end badly both of them.

"Hey," he murmured. "Hey, try to relax. Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop."

He recognised the look in Thor's eyes. Determination, certainty. He evidently had no plans of informing Loki of even the most abject agony if he could possibly help it. Always so stubborn.

So he'd have to try to be extra aware and cautious in identifying what was a wince that could be powered through and what was something more serious as he began gently pushing forward.

Thor hissed and his head hit the pillow, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. But he was nodding and so Loki kept going, slowly and carefully, little by little...

His own breath sighed out of him, shaking and thick, overwhelmed by sensation. Thor was so... so warm, so tight, like nothing he could even describe and he hoped against all hope that it would feel good for him too because...

"Oh, Thor..."

He got a sort of garble in response, but Thor was knotting one hand into his hair, pulling him close, moaning into their kiss as finally Loki slid all the way forward and was engulfed in perfect, clenching heat.

It was fairly obvious that he was not going to last. It was all too much. If he moved so much as an inch, it might all be over. Instead, he ought to please Thor, clearly. Make him feel that he could do this a second time, when hopefully he would last a little longer.

Still, he risked rolling his hips just the tiniest amount, not even really a thrust so much as a grind.

If he never heard another sound in all his days but that little cry, he might actually die happy.

And the little snarl that followed it.

Thor even started moving, jerking upwards, his eyes clamped shut and mouth open in apparently pained ecstasy. Maybe he couldn't tell if it hurt or not. Maybe the good was outweighing the bad.

Either way, he yelped when Loki pushed his arm between them and wrapped a hand around his cock.

"Too fast..."

"I know. I'm sorry, but... Ah, Thor!"

"Loki..."

He didn't know which of them spilled first. All he knew was a sense of spiralling out of control. Like he was swimming and had been caught by some unseen current, pulling him out of one orbit and into a new one.

Collapsing forward, he could feel every twitch of Thor's body, the smear of his spill between them. The clumsy brush of his lips, the heaving of his chest...

They might not be moving again for a little while.

"Was that alright?" Loki asked.

Thor let out a long, happy sigh.

"I was so worried," he said softly, stroking Loki's back.

"What about?"

"Doesn't matter. Do you have any news for me?"

Ugh. Yes. He did. But he wasn't sure Thor would want to hear it.

"I have been in contact with someone who may be able to help us."

Thor tilted his head up, frowning a little.

"Why does that good news sound so worrying?"

Loki sighed and rested his head against Thor's chest again, avoiding his gaze.

"Because she is perhaps not someone I would readily... jump into bed with, as it were. Purely metaphorically speaking. You think I am a good thief? I'm showy and melodramatic. She's so good that no one even realises they're being robbed until it is too late."

He might as well tell Thor the whole tale. How he had gone looking for Hawthorn and had somehow managed to find her. How he'd been bundled into a fine carriage and driven out to the middle of nowhere, whereupon a huge mansion, a castle, suddenly appeared from behind forests and mountains.

No wonder he had been unable to find her in the cities. She was never there herself.

And the fact she was indeed a she had also thrown him a little. He could not claim to have much experience with women, certainly not on an individual basis.

It had been something he'd never anticipated, having to negotiate for anything in fact, let alone with a thief queen.

"She has everything we need," he said. "A respectable title, practice in lying. It's foolproof. She could very easily give me the reference I need."

"And what does she want in return?"

That was just the question, wasn't it? How like Thor to put his finger on it immediately.

"She wants me to work for her for a time."

Thor shifted a little.

"Well, surely that is not so bad," he said. "It will add more credence to your story to spend some time in her household."

Loki couldn't help but laugh.

"Not as a servant. As a thief."

He definitely wasn't imagining the way Thor's grip on him tightened just slightly.


	36. Sonambulist

Thor couldn't quite explain why, but the very idea of it put him on edge.

"You're supposed to be leaving that life behind, I thought," he said, trying his best not to sound too judgemental.

Loki huffed and he knew he had failed.

"I am," he said, rolling off Thor and flopping down next to him. "But it would be necessary. And then I can come here. I thought that was what you wanted."

Thor found his face compressing, eyebrows in a tight, worried frown, lips pursed. But he didn't want to lecture. He caught one of Loki's hands and brought it to his mouth for a lingering kiss.

"I do want that," he said. "More than anything. I've already started making arrangements for it. But I can't help fearing for you when you are forced to associate with such people."

"I can handle myself, Thor. I am not the little boy I once was."

As if he needed reminding of that. It was difficult to reconcile the child he had once known with the man lying beside him.

"What exactly does she want from you?"

"Money. She... She has multiple streams of income, some legitimate, some not. She wants me to steal for her. And to steal from her."

Well, that was doubly confusing. Loki seemed to spot his perplexed expression.

"How better to draw attention away than to become a victim yourself?"

Hmm. There was something in that he supposed.

"Are you going to tell me her name?"

"She calls herself Amora. She claims to be Prussian, but I am not sure if that is true. I'm not sure if any of it is true. She is blonde. Beautiful, I suppose. And sharp. Very sharp. Dangerously so."

Hmm...

"How will you do it, then? Steal from her?"

He felt the shrug.

"Thoroughly theatrically, I should expect. But that will come later. First of all, she wants me to steal a thousand pound's worth of goods for her."

Thor sat bolt upright in shock.

"A thousand pounds? That will take you years!"

"Shh... It won't take so very long if I'm concentrating on it. Every little helps. I'll have it before you know it."

Thor couldn't be so sure, but a creak in the hallway distracted him, tensing. Someone coming to his room?

"Get under the bed," he whispered, getting up and wrapping his dressing gown around his bare skin.

He crept to the door and pressed his ear against it, just catching shuffling footsteps passing. Heimdall doing his rounds? Was that normal?

No. He opened the door cautiously and found his father walking down the corridor, holding onto the wall. He looked lost, almost. Confused.

"Father?"

Odin turned, a frown on his face, sightless eyes restless.

"I can hear him," he said, sounding lost rather than angry.

"Who?" Thor asked, playing dumb.

"The boy."

Oh, no.

"What boy? Who are you talking about?"

"He was your friend."

Thor hadn't wanted to have this conversation yet. And he certainly didn't want to do it while his father was so evidently confused. Instead, he rushed into his room and pulled the bell rope, summoning Heimdall.

"What's happening?" Loki whispered from somewhere beneath the mattress.

"I think he's been sleepwalking."

He managed to get his father to stop walking and soon enough, Heimdall was there to help guide him to his own chambers.

Thor almost flinched when they put him back to bed and his father reached for his face, palm colliding with his nose as he sought him.

"I was trying to help," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Hush, Father. You're dreaming. Go back to sleep."

They closed the door quietly, both of them sighing. Thor realised suddenly that he had never seen Heimdall in his sleep clothes before. It seemed bizarre to see him in something so relaxed as faded pyjamas, even if his stance was as starched as ever.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said awkwardly. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"It's not the first time he has done this, sir. When your mother passed, he would wander, for hours, looking for her."

Thor frowned lightly. He had been home at that point and had never noticed. He had not heard anything.

"I took to sleeping in the next room at his request," Heimdall explained. "After he found himself down in the library one morning with no memory of how he had got there. He didn't want to worry you, sir."

And he had only succeeded in making him worry even more. What had happened to make him worry so? Did he suspect that Thor had found out?

And he sounded so regretful.

Thor made his way back to bed, glad that Loki was there. Someone to hold. Someone warm and alive to hear all his worries.

"You'll have it out with him eventually," Loki said. "But you must wait. And I must go."

Thor frowned and pouted a little.

"I hope you might stay the night."

"And have Sleipnir discovered in the morning? No, it's for the best, trust me."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Loki kissed him again.

"One day, I promise. You'll get to have all the fun of waking up with my legs all wrapped around you, distracting you from whatever you're supposed to be doing."

It sounded heavenly, but the knowledge of what had to happen in between lay heavily on Thor's mind.

"I wish I could help you," he said.

"Got anything valuable you wouldn't miss? And more importantly, that your father and Heimdall won't notice is gone?"

His father might be blind, but Heimdall's sight was as keen as ever. Instead, Thor took what he had in cash in his private purse and gave it to him, even while Loki protested.

"It will buy you food or lodgings," he insisted. "Take it, please."

Loki sighed, but obeyed.

"If I'd known sex was so lucrative, I might have tried it sooner," he joked, making Thor's heart ache.

"It's a gift, not payment."

A last kiss.

"I know. Thank you. You know how I am. I have to make fun of everything. I'll be back as soon as I can be, I promise."

Thor hoped that was true. And wished he didn't feel so apprehensive about everything..


	37. Trying

Sleipnir did not want to leave any more than Loki did, but alas, he had to get a move on if he was going to clear out his rooms in his old lodgings and report to his new mistress.

That had been his excuse to allow him to visit Thor. He didn't want Amora to know everything about him, certainly not so early in their knowing each other. He needed a reference to allow him to go back to his old life. Never mind the details.

He wanted to pawn what he had stored first. He did not trust Amora to give him credit for what he brought her, so if he could start off his work with hard cash, so much the better.

Thor meant well. He knew that. But that didn't mean he wasn't feeling embarrassed at having to take his money. It made him feel again how they would never be equal. And no matter how he tried, that stung. He couldn't help it.

His haul wasn't as big as it sometimes was. He hadn't been doing much thieving while hunting down Hawthorn after all. But he had a few pretty pieces. A ruby ring. Pearls. A silver letter opener. If he could get a good price for each, he'd at least get off on the right foot.

Part of him couldn't help but think Thor was right though. Thieves did not easily give up a good source of income and so his debt might fluctuate up and down. And then there was the risks involved in the second part of the scheme, the robbery part. He might be captured at last, performing a false attack. She would not save him, that was for sure. Nothing personal. Just survival.

He'd have to be extra careful to ensure he wasn't betrayed.

If Sleipnir hadn't liked leaving the old stable, he definitely wasn't keen on being taken to the little cottage in the grounds of Amora's house. Maybe he could smell other horses or something. Maybe he could sense Loki's unease at being in such a place, all damp and ragged furnishings. Had there been others before him? Other tame highwaymen? Or other thieves, certainly.

It didn't exactly put him at ease the way a sturdy roof over his head generally would.

Means to an end, though. Means to an end.

From the way her eyes lit up at his delivery of his funds - a full twelve pounds and even then he'd been risking pushing too hard on stolen goods - at least she was genuinely interested in what he could do for her, not merely toying with him. She gave him wine, celebrating their first transaction.

He tried not to think of what had happened the last time he'd accepted a glass from a supposed friend.

"So, tell me," she said, twisting the thick rope of her blonde hair idly with one hand. "Why exactly do you want to give up this life? You evidently have a talent for it."

Loki tried not to look shifty.

"I tire of the constant moving. The violence, the fear. I wish to retire to a more gentle life. To the kind of life I might have had, if I have made different choices a long time ago."

Frankly, she looked doubtful.

"I admit, I gave never needed to take to the road," she said. "Oddly enough, my victims generally invite me in. I'm sure they believe they would get something out of my presence."

The coy act did nothing for him. He didn't even think she was trying to charm him. This was just business talk.

"Did they ever?" he asked, rudely.

She laughed.

"Oh, once or twice. If the good stuff was in the bedroom. But it makes me wonder what else is being offered to you for you to go through all of this."

"I suppose you'll just have to continue wondering."

Perhaps this wasn't the right approach, but she seemed more amused by him than anything else. Maybe she didn't generally get to speak to anyone in quite such blunt fashion. Most men probably treated her like china or like a precocious child, a precious, innocent little thing. And he would feel sorry for her about that - after all, one of the reasons he pretended to be noble was that he was taken vastly more seriously when he was dressed thus as opposed to an illiterate fool as he was otherwise - if he didn't get the distinct impression that the act was her equivalent of a mask.

Though if they were asking probing questions...

"Will you be honest with me?" he asked. "Will you treat what I bring you as though it's worth its true price?"

"What kind of woman do you think I am?"

Loki took a careful sip of his wine.

"I think you're the same kind of person that I am. Looking out for yourself. But it's in my interest to stay in your favour. You have all the advantage here."

She smiled at him, a beauty mark moving on her cheek in a way that couldn't help but catch his eye.

"I do. And don't you forget it."


	38. Prognosis

No matter what his father insisted upon, Thor was not going to let him go a moment longer without seeing a doctor. It was dangerous to walk around at night, especially as he couldn't see. What if he fell down the stairs?

He paced the corridor outside the parlour and tried not to worry. What he'd said in his confused state... He'd been talking about Loki. Had he somehow heard them? Or had his mind just been fixed on what he had done all those years ago?

The doctor finally came out, shaking his head, unhooking his glasses from his ears.

"Is it bad?" Thor asked.

"Would you like me to be honest or comforting?"

"Honest, of course. I need to know."

A sigh and the man beckoned, wanting to talk as he took his leave. Perhaps Odin had asked him to be gone from the house as quickly as possible.

"Whatever has disturbed him, he will not speak about it. But you were right to call me. Confusion and memory issues in a man of your father's age... Well, it is not uncommon. You should prepare yourself for degradation. He is likely to get worse rather than better."

Thor knew this would happen one day, and yet it still hurt. And for all that he was angry and their relationship was strained, Odin was still his father. He had been the one who raised him, who picked him up when he fell as a child, who gave him everything he had, who had borne the brunt of his directionless anger after his mother's death. The thought of losing him was abhorrent.

More so the idea of losing his wits while his body lingered on, blind to who attended him.

"How long?" he asked.

"Hard to say. Could be years, or merely months. And, forgive me for saying, but he is a proud man. He will not take well to any help you try to offer."

"I'm used to that, at least. He'll take help from Heimdall, but never from me."

"That's fairly normal. It's difficult to accept a child's assistance sometimes. It feels wrong to some."

No wonder. It would be quite an adjustment to go from looking after someone to allowing them to take care of you.

"Can I make anything easier?" Thor asked. "For him or for me?"

The doctor gave him a look, eyebrows raised, cheeks puffed with a sigh.

"Well... Be patient with him, if you can. Frustration might be inevitable, but dwelling in it will help no one. Be positive as far as possible. There will be good days. And perhaps... perhaps consider employing a nurse, if you need to."

Thor tried not to despair, thanked the doctor and paid him.

His father scowled in his general direction when he entered the room, letting his feet fall a little heavily to better announce his presence.

"I am not ill, Thor," he growled, setting a tone for any and all discussions on the subject.

"Humour me, Father. I was concerned. You were distressed. Or seemed so."

A huff and folded arms.

"It was a nightmare, nothing more. Nothing of concern."

Thor chewed the inside of his lip.

"Would you care to tell me about it?"

After all, maybe if his father mentioned Loki of his own volition he could go out and 'find' him and release him from the grip of the thief queen.

No such luck, of course. Odin shifted awkwardly, like he was ruffling feathers he did not have.

"I don't recall it," he mumbled.

An obvious lie, but Thor elected not to press the matter. He didn't want another argument, especially if he might be tempted to say the wrong thing.

It must be deeply unpleasant for his father. Perhaps he ought to cheer him up.

"Would you like to go out on the estate this afternoon?"

"No. My restless night has quite exhausted me. I want to sleep. I will rest until dinner, I think."

He even refused Thor's arm to help him climb the stairs, feeling his way up the banister by feel and by lightly kicking the stairs.

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. Hopefully this would pass, this uncomfortable, uneasy tension. Hopefully Odin would come to terms with the reality of his age.

Some hope. Thor's stubbornness had not come from nowhere. He would probably be the same at that age and frustrate whatever poor soul had to look after him.

Funny how his father's struggles suddenly made him all the more aware of his own mortality. He had not ever really thought of his future. He had always imagined that a wife and children would arrive when the time was right. But now that he understood what passion felt like and that he felt it for another man... Maybe he would never marry after all.

No sons to follow him. He would have to leave the estate to someone else. Would have to choose them.

But maybe that was good. He could choose on merit rather than have a first child inherit by accident of birth.

Love was a different beast though. Did be love Loki in that way, like a spouse? He wasn't sure. He had never been in love. Was this strange sickening worry at all hours love? It was certainly care. He cared for Loki very deeply.

Dinner was still horribly awkward, but Thor was determined to make everything as normal as possible, reading the paper as if they were not at cross purposes.

It was much more difficult to keep his voice steady when he got his first word of the Shadow since his last meeting with Loki.

_The infamous thief known as the Shadow has reportedly been sighted in a variety of locations and no longer appears to prey exclusively upon the rich. Vigilance is advised for all travellers, regardless of station._

Thor tried to breathe evenly and found himself praying for Loki's safety.


	39. A New Scheme

Pennies and tin rings and kitchen knives... Loki had never had such thin pickings, but he needed every last scrap he could get his hands on.

He didn't like it. Once, he had told himself that his stealing was somehow not base theft. He had enjoyed outwitting people, tricking them, taking what he thought would not be missed by those who surely had too much. What had been a necessity for survival had become a source of pleasure but now... Now he was nothing but a tool for Amora to gather yet more wealth. He was feeding just what he had always been preying on, reduced to her right hand.

Even he drew a line somewhere. He tried to avoid anyone with young children and often watched an old man pass by in a fur coat which had to be worth something. But he couldn't bear the sight of his worn shoes and thin shirt. There had to be a line, even for the Shadow.

Amora was distinctly unimpressed.

"Are you sure you are the infamous highwayman?" she asked, picking at a pile of grubby coins. "The wine I feed you is worth more than this."

"It's hardly my fault that you have expensive taste."

"Next time, I shall give you vinegar."

Possibly not an idle threat, and it was an excellent vintage. Loki suspected that she valued his company too, though. She liked being superior and even better, to be superior to one who had such evident pride.

"Big targets are becoming less frequent," he explained. "I have had to expand my range."

"There is not even a pound's worth here, Loki."

Didn't he know it?

"Little and often, I thought. Something is better than nothing."

She let out a strange little grunt.

"Perhaps expanding in a different way would be better."

A faint shiver ran up his back.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I have always found that the best goods could be found in houses, not out in the open."

Loki forced a laugh to cover his nerves.

"I don't housebreak," he said. "I haven't the hands for it."

"Not do I. I take great pride in being invited in."

"And how do you suggest I do that? I lack your particular charms, as it were, and doors close far more readily in the faces of penniless young men than they do those of beautiful women."

He risked a glance to her face. Her lips were pursed, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Stand up for me," she said, just short of a command.

Suspicious, he obeyed, turning when told, unsure of what this scrutiny meant.

"I am engaged to be married," she said, apropos of nothing.

"Congratulations. Is he rich?"

"Of course. And jealous. He lives in the old country and suffers my living here in cooler climes for the sake of my health, only joining him in winter. Alas, he cannot join me here permanently due to business matters on the continent."

"I'm sure you're simply bereft without him."

He hoped she would begin making sense soon.

"I enjoy my social life," she said. "Both for pleasure and the lucrative opportunities it affords me. But despite my constant reassurances, my fiancé is greatly distressed and wishes me to have a chaperone to protect me from the attentions of other men."

Loki looked at her in disbelief over one shoulder.

"A male chaperone would surely be counterproductive," he said.

"You are an honourable man, are you not? You would never dream of..."

"I would not, but that will not remove suspicion from me."

"Mmm, but think of the scandal it will provoke. We'll get invited to all the best parties. I'll be entertaining while you sniff out their hidden things. And you will get your evidence of service all the sooner. Everyone will see you at work, cementing your story for when you want to return to your Earl's daughter or whoever it is."

He abruptly turned away. He didn't like her speculating. It was too risky.

"Earl's daughter," he scoffed. "I would know nothing of that sort of thing."

"Can you flirt?"

He stepped forward almost reflexively, spluttering in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's an easy way to gain trust. Suggest an interest, touch their things fleetingly, take them when their backs are turned. Some men like the idea of two partners. Some women too. Can you flirt? Come, try it with me."

His cheeks were likely pink, his shirt collar feeling tight. He tried to think of Thor, of their future together, of the ways he could entice and tease him. It was just pretend after all.

He'd put down his glass when he stood and now returned to it, stroking the stem delicately with the pads of two fingers before picking it up and glancing at Amora, trying to act as though he saw something he truly wanted in her physical appearance. She was beautiful, he could say that from an aesthetic standpoint, but he had little else he could add.

The blonde hair though. The gold silk. Yes, that could remind him of another just enough to help.

He looked at her, really looked, scrutinising, exploring the gentle curves of her body with his eyes and thought of broad shoulders and a trim waist, moistening his lips just slightly and lowering his eyes to the floor only to bring them up once more, slowly, lingering...

"You are coarse," Amora said, not harshly. "Like you are eyeing up a prize sow and thinking of the sausages. But I can work with such hunger, I think."

"I am not getting any choice in this matter, am I?" Loki asked.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," she said, refreshing his glass from the nearly empty bottle. "My tailor will be happy to make your outfits in any shade you desire."

"And the thefts? What if I am caught? What if we draw suspicion?"

"We can discuss that properly later."

Loki tried not to sigh too loudly and reminded himself yet again of his reasons for putting himself through all this.

Something worth more than anything even Amora could steal.


	40. Forcing a Meeting

When word of the Shadow dried up suddenly, Thor couldn't help but feel sick with worry. If there was no word, he was not stealing and if he was not stealing then what?

What if something had happened? What if he had been hurt, killed...?

If only he had an address. But then again, if he wrote, he could not compel Loki to write back. It would make him feel better though.

How strange it was to hear of a robbery and be glad of it. A week after a dinner party - the kind Thor was occasionally invited to but tended to avoid on the basis that he could happily live without being targeted by mothers looking for husbands for their daughters - it was noticed that several items of jewellery were missing.

It was not Loki's usual style, but then again, he had proven himself adept at entering houses unseen for their trysts. Perhaps he had decided it was safer, especially if the household was otherwise occupied.

So maybe... Maybe Thor could see him if he attended such a gathering.

Odin reacted with distrust to these sudden musings on social occasions.

"You despise those things, I thought?"

"Perhaps it is time I began to attend and meet new people. A great many young women have recently been presented into society. Perhaps there are some charming ones among their number. I shan't know unless I meet them."

Transparent. Evidently so. But he was saying the right things. His father could hardly object to his taking an interest in women after being so determined that he ought to after all.

The invitation he had received most recently had clearly been a courtesy only as his positive response elicited a surprised note making sure he knew that he had agreed to go. He could almost sense the table plans being redrawn to accommodate an unexpected guest.

It would only be polite therefore to dress particularly well. And no, he was not thinking of impressing Loki should he appear unannounced. It was only a vague chance after all that he would, certainly in plain sight. He would be more likely to hide, enter and leave unseen.

His best coat, the blue one and an especially crisp shirt, even if Sif could barely hide her giggles as he asked for extra starch.

"Is there going to be someone particular at this gathering, sir?" she asked.

"You never know who you might meet."

It was true. You didn't. And, yes, perhaps he was a little surprised to enter the home of a distance acquaintance and spot a familiar head amongst them immediately, standing behind a woman he could only describe as stunningly beautiful, even though he seldom paid attention to such things.

Loki looked at him and then looked away and Thor was instantly full of questions. What was he doing here? Who was that woman? The thief queen? Was she really so brazen as this, to stand in the open?

But Loki had said something, hadn't he, about hiding in plain sight? She must consider herself beyond suspicion.

He would need to get closer, but to approach immediately would be much too obvious. He forced himself to mingle, ever conscious of the feeling of Loki's gaze upon him.

Pretending to know of markets and politics beyond his own sphere kept him occupied until dinner was called, the glass of sparkling wine he had been given growing flatter by the moment.

He was seated on the opposite side and three seats away from the mysterious woman, between a dowager of advancing years and an ambitious young man desperate to reach the height of the law profession. Both extremely interesting, no doubt, but Thor only had eyes for the empty place behind the glamorous woman.

Glamour was the right word. There was more to her than physical beauty. There was something in the way she spoke and the way she listened, so intently. Like she really cared. It would be very easy to only be looking at her and forget there had ever been anything sparkling on your wrist, and certainly not worry about the whereabouts of her manservant.

Unless, of course, that was who you were interested in.

Thor waited as long as he could before excusing himself from the table, pretending he needed to powder his nose. It was obvious what was happening. The mistress distracted while Loki ransacked the place. If he was subtle about it and took things that were out of view, it could be months before a pair of earrings or other little trinkets were missed.

Such a big house though. And he could be anywhere, scurrying about.

He knew Thor too well though. He knew he would try to seek him out. A little whispered hiss cut through the still air of the foyer, loud enough to be heard over the party hubbub and leading Thor to a side room.

Loki hauled him in and closed the door and Thor finally got a chance to look at him properly. All dressed up like a footman, white gloves and pressed breeches. He had the height for it. The colour was not usual though, a deep and lush green rather than the usual black. It made his skin almost luminous.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly. "You never liked the formal sit down type of affair."

That was true enough. He used to sneak off from his parents dull dinner parties and hide with Loki in the stables.

"I heard there had been house thefts. I put two and two together and hoped... hoped you might be here."

A sigh, Loki turning away to open drawers on the ornate furniture and root through them.

"Well, I am, regardless of my protests."

"Protests?"

"Look at me. What do you see?"

Thor frowned, lost. A neat young man. What else?

Loki waved a hand in front of his face.

"No mask. Makes me uneasy to be so exposed. It's like... like being shirtless all the time or something. The risk of being recognised is immense, even among those who don't look at servants. Ah, hello..."

Thor looked over his shoulder at the little box he'd found, intricately carved and in a pocket in a flash. So fast as to be almost invisible.

"Is that woman... That is, she's treating you well? I've been so worried about you."

A chuckle, but Thor wasn't sure if it had humour behind it really.

"She's dressing me up like a doll and sending me out to do her dirty work. But she is feeding me and keeping a roof over my head, so I suppose it depends on your viewpoint. I'm supposed to be her chaperone, of all things. I expect she was turning the charm on everything within a thirty feet radius."

"She's certainly very engaging."

Maybe he imagined that Loki slammed the drawer shut a little harshly.

"You should get back," he said. "That was far too long for a piss. I don't need more people coming out to look for missing guests."

Thor still hovered in front of the door.

"No kiss?" he ventured eventually.

Loki gave him a withering look and rolled his eyes but crossed the room and met his lips eagerly all the same.

"I will visit you as soon as I can, I promise. Now go back. And watch your valuables."

Now, was that a joke for the fun of it, or was he deflecting again? Thor couldn't tell.

But he knew he wanted to find out a little more about this thief queen as he made his way back to the dining room.


	41. Crossed Purposes

Cufflinks and little boxes and silk cravats... Loki was trying to vary what he took, trying to make it seem random, or at least spread out the concern. Taking women's jewellery every time would drive suspicion as those items would be checked first, but some of his handiwork hadn't even been spotted yet.

He liked to take books sometimes these days. Slim volumes mostly, the occasional bigger one if he thought it particularly fine. One of many wouldn't be missed. These were the kind of people who bought books by the yard and had them rebound to match the library colour scheme.

It made his blood boil to see Amora talking to Thor when he sidled into the main room once more. She was batting her eyes at him, smiling, cheeks gently rosy from a glass or two of white wine.

Jealousy had come Loki's way before. It drove him to all sorts of things. Half his career was based on it. But this was not the envy of feeling like he deserved something someone else had. This was the feeling of threat.

Could Thor really be interested in her? Surely not. But then again, if there was a certain type of person he liked then Amora would fit into that category. Beautiful, criminal, amoral... All the things Loki was himself and in a package that would be broadly acceptable in the eyes of society.

Still, despite his heart sullenly throbbing in his chest, he was careful to keep his distance until called over. Any marking of territory, as it were, would arouse her suspicion.

He even did his best to keep his face neutral when they were finally face to face, as if Thor was just another man, just another noble his mistress was talking to. He hoped Thor didn't think it was because he was upset at how reckless he was being.

Well... Mostly not anyway.

"Hold this," she said, pressing something into his hand.

Someone had annoyed her then. It wasn't usual for her to take in the open like that. But a careless glance, a brush of arms and she could easily sneak something away. Someone would be looking for a bracelet or a hair piece soon enough.

He tried to feel it as it went into one of his pockets, individual little pouches in the lining of his coat to prevent things rubbing together and clinking. It felt decidedly showy, possibly a woman's jewel. Certainly not Thor's at least.

"Wherever have you been hiding away?" Amora was asking Thor. "I'm sure we have not met before."

"I am sure I would remember meeting you, madam."

Loki's every muscle seemed to be tense.

"I know the name, however. Aren't you the one who throws the masked balls? What a simply wonderful idea. You must invite me to the next one. I don't care if it is forward of me to say so."

Thor let out a measured chuckle.

"Alas, the next one is not for almost a year. You will have to wait."

Amora's pout could have brought armies to their knees if they thought it might please her.

"But that is so long. Surely you cannot think of staying completely off the social scene for so long? An eligible bachelor like you?"

"I'm afraid that is my usual style. As you can tell, I am not much suited to such elegant gatherings."

"Oh, well, an informal meeting of friends can be just the thing. Why, I often invite my confidants to take supper with me in the most charmingly intimate surroundings. Isn't that so, Laufeyson?"

Loki tried not to startle, tried not to burn with the strength of Thor's gaze on him.

"Indeed, Ma'am. Very cosy."

Oh, and now he could see the little frown on Thor's face, the faintest furrow between his brows. He was wondering just how intimate, just who was invited, just what happened in these small soirees. Whether Loki was the sole guest. Whether he was earning his wine in other ways than stealing.

They were both so ridiculous.

"And when you say intimate..." Thor said.

Danger. Danger!

She gave him one of those slow blinks, the ones that seemed to make even sensible people weak at the knees.

"Oh, sometimes it's simply shocking. Just me and a dear friend. And Laufeyson, sometimes."

Thor was not so good an actor as he hoped and the idea of Loki in intimate settings with not only Amora but other men too clearly concerned him, for all he was trying not to let his smile waver.

"Maybe I ought to... come round some time."

Loki tried to catch his eye, tried to shake his head subtly. What was he doing? Did he want to get caught?

"You must give me your address, so I can write to you."

"Oh, we have that written down somewhere, don't we?"

Loki obediently fished out one of her calling cards, the ones with her address on them, given out to potential victims freely but seldom to friends, and abruptly knew Thor's scheme. He wanted to write. He wanted Loki's address.

Well, he couldn't let that go on. A letter arriving to Amora's house addressed to him when supposedly no one knew him? It would reveal more about him than he cared to be revealed at present.

Fine. He'd write first and allow direct conversation. Maybe that would make Thor happy.

Something he certainly wasn't by the time Amora was taking him home in her carriage.

"Are you tired?" she asked. "Or are you insulted at how interested Odinson was in you?"

Loki startled back from her and then tried to look unconcerned.

"I can't say I noticed, if he was."

"You were getting quite the going over. I know the signs. He's far more taken with you than he was with me, that's for sure. If and when he comes to get to know me better, I may have to let you do the bulk of the entertaining. Don't worry. I shan't let him touch you without permission."

This was just her playing. Just pushing buttons and seeing what stuck. He ought to appear indifferent.

Loki shrugged and hoped she'd let it drop, knowing now that he'd be up half the night writing to Thor, warning him off.

Or at least asking to know the rules of whatever new game he was playing.


	42. Communication

_Thor,_

_It seems you have somehow come to the conclusion that I am not as invested as you in our scheme despite being the one taking the most risk so please excuse me if I am blunt with you - please, do not make it your business to look for me. I will see you when I can. Do not put us both in danger._

_Since you are so determined to risk discovery, I suppose I ought to give you a contact address..._

Thor read the letter gloomily. Perhaps he had overstepped the mark a little, but Loki had left him no choice. He'd had no news and no visits and then so much worry...

Was he being unreasonable? Maybe. Maybe Loki was right after all.

And since he had an address, maybe he ought to grit his teeth and apologise. At least he had an open communication path now. That was all he had really wanted.

He reached for a fresh sheet of paper and sharpened his quill.

He then stood up and paced as he tried to decide how to begin. With words of affection? With an immediate admission of guilt? Or would that make Loki feel he was being coddled in some way? Placated?

Eventually, he elected to leave a gap at the top of the page and to decide at the end.

_I went to the party on a hunch and was overjoyed to see you there looking so healthy. I feared the worst when there was no news. I'm glad you now trust me enough to allow me to write. It greatly soothes my worries, knowing that I have a means to contact you._

He paused and had a think. Loki's circumstances had changed and Thor wasn't about to give upon his idea that they could hurry things along now that they had "officially" met again. The trouble was his mistress, this Amora. She could ruin them if Loki tried to get out of their deal too suddenly, or in a way she didn't like.

_You are living somewhat out in the open now. It would be possible for me to stumble upon you and have the discussion with my father about why he sent you away and lied to me. I admit, I am anxious to do it sooner rather than later._

 _You were with me when he walked in his sleep and I fear the stress caused by regretting his actions is making him ill. Perhaps I ought to have less sympathy than I do, seeing as he wronged us both so badly, but I truly believe it would be better for all of us if the air were to be cleared. Though, of course, I will not speak up without your permission._

That seemed fair, did it not? Stating his case, but not acting without seeking Loki's view. He was learning, slowly but surely.

He glanced over Loki's message again, the faintly accusatory tone of it almost making him smile. They were both so jealous and silly. But he also said that Thor's attraction had been too obvious, that Amora was suspicious and pointed out the risks in giving such a person power over him. Sage advice, but Thor wanted to at least attempt to lighten the mood.

_I regret that I was insufficiently adept at hiding my feelings, but I dare say I was overwhelmed a little bit by your appearance and your Appearance, as it were. I have worded that poorly. But how could I not look upon you searingly when you were looking so handsome? I shall endeavour to do better next time._

Now he was implying that there ought to be a next time and no doubt Loki would not like that. He was right, it was risky, and if Thor were to use seeing him supposedly for the first time as an excuse to have the great discussion with his father, it would be better that they had not managed to become bosom friends once more in the meantime.

His father had asked about the party already over breakfast. Thor had told him he had met a young woman, but that he did not quite know what to make of her. Odin had nodded and told him that was likely wise. There were fortune hunters around, you know.

He didn't know the half of it. Though Thor couldn't help but wonder what else some of the men who had stalked around Amora could have hoped to offer in return for her beauty and charms. They were quick to condemn a woman for gaining money through her appearance but strangely reluctant to do the same to men who paid for their company.

But he was getting off track.

_I will write to Amora to arrange a meeting, however I fear I will be very busy over the next few months, or so I will tell her. I hope this false eagerness will help dispel her suspicions until you are able to contact me with your suggestions as to how we should proceed._

Ending the letter was going to be just as difficult as beginning it. Should he be affectionate? Was that the level they had reached? Would that reflect his emotions accurately?

Would Loki appreciate such sentiments?

He ought to be caring but not saccharine. Yes. If only he could find the right words.

_With warm feelings,_

_Thor_

And to begin...

Hmm...

_My dearest Loki_

Yes... Yes, that would do nicely.

He certainly wasn't going to give himself enough time to overthink it.


	43. Difficulties

It was difficult to stay angry with Thor when faced with such words. Or maybe he was getting soft.

He liked the idea, he had to admit it. It was so plausible. He'd been working elsewhere, Thor bumped into him by chance, confronted his father about his lies. It would be nice and neat were it not for a certain blonde barrier.

How typical. The plan would only work because of his arrangement with Amora and yet also would not work because of her. They were helped and hindered by her.

In another life, he would ask her to free him from this service. He would pay her the fee over a period of years.

But she had wanted him to rob her at one point. Presumably she still wanted that. He'd have to check. And he'd have to take her something shiny to get her sympathetic ear, and so as to distract her from his sudden questioning.

Which meant he should go out on the road and get something.

Sleipnir nudged him grumpily when he entered the stable, unhappy with how little exercise he'd been getting of late. Loki still took him out during the day as best he could, but he seldom got the long runs or sprints these days.

Time to change that. A good, long trip in search of prey. After such an extended time without the Shadow committing any crimes, surely it would be easy.

It was nice to wear a mask again too. He felt almost naked without it, having to walk around wearing his own face and name. That would likely be what he missed the most when he gave up this life. Maybe he could keep one or two of his disguises. Make a game of them with Thor.

As was so often the case, he found himself drifting back towards the Asgard estate. His home hunting ground. This home, as was and would be again.

Not very close, of course. He was too far away for that. But he went in that direction, still drawn to the gravity of Thor's presence. Like a plant facing the sun.

He wanted patiently for a likely target, like old times. The proper way of going about it, carefully and steadily. He needed the good stuff, the expensive stuff, not coppers taken from people with nothing else.

The carriage made his eyes light up. Two horses, one driver in a fine coat, very neat and proper. Proud, showy people, yes. They would be perfect.

He watched them pass by before nudging Sleipnir's flanks to give chase, pistol already drawn, grinning as the driver cracked the whip, trying to escape. A challenge, then.

Sleipnir shrieked, hooves pounding the road as they drew level with the windows and Loki got a peek of the people within. A ruddy-faced, middle aged man and wife and an adult son, by the looks of things. Surely they'd have a bauble or two between them.

"Stop if you value your lives," he yelled.

A fight ought to have been expected. He dropped back as the son reached for his pocket, using the carriage as protection as the shot rang out wildly. Fool. Now he'd have to reload and that gave Loki an opportunity.

He circled round the speeding vehicle, to the opposite window, the side the lady had been on. If they would not stop, he would yank her necklace from her by force and be gone before they could blink.

She screamed in terror as he lunged for her, relying on stirrups and thigh muscles to keep him in the saddle, snatching at the glittering ruby at her throat and pulling hard, trying to break the chain.

The second pistol glinted out of the corner of his eye.

Shit.

He drew back a second too late, still gripping that huge stone as the shot came, bright and terrible, yelling as white hot, burning pain exploded in his upper arm. To his surprise, he felt strangely calm. He could survive this. It had finally happened, the bullet with his name on it, but at least it hadn't hit a vital organ. This was not ideal, but he was not dead. He was almost serene in the initial shock.

The same could not be said of Sleipnir, who reared violently, almost throwing him off before bolting blindly into the woods. Loki held on desperately with one hand, knowing he had to stop, had to bind himself, stem the blood flow and flee.

"Woah," he tried. "Hey, woah..."

He had no idea where they were when Sleipnir finally stopped, puffing and quivering with fear, not even calming with the most soothing murmurs Loki could muster.

No doubt he could smell the blood.

Loki couldn't see very well, tugging his gloves off with his teeth - the ruby necklace still gripped tightly in his right hand, unconsciously - and doing his best to assess the damage. A flesh wound only. It had not hit bone. Still, he was bleeding profusely, unlikely to survive the night if he did not get help.

With some difficulty, for he did not buy flimsy clothing, he managed to tear a piece from his shirt sleeve to serve as a temporary bandage, struggling to tie it into place. Better. Safer.

He could not go to just any doctor. Word would get out too soon, word that the Shadow had been struck. He'd be discovered immediately.

Somehow, he had to get home.

No... No, not home.

To Amora's home, not his. She would be able to help. She would know someone who could patch him up.

Very, very carefully, trying to keep his heartrate down, he set out in what he hoped was the right direction.


	44. Urgency

_Battle on the road - son of Duke fends off attack from the Shadow. Villain apparently injured, but escapes with priceless jewel._

It was nearly a whole day before the news reached Thor. This heart pounded, his stomach rolled with fear, trying desperately to keep his voice steady as he read the paper aloud, as usual. Was Loki alright? How bad was his injury? Did he need help?

He could write again, he supposed. But it would take so long to get there and what if Loki hadn't got back to his current home? No, the only answer was to go to him and soon.

Which meant coming up with an excuse to be away for possibly a few days.

Lies had never exactly been his strong suit.

"I've been called away," he told his father the next morning, interrupting his breakfast. "Rather urgently. There is some kind of disease affecting the barley a little way north. I intend to go and see it for myself, in case it affects us also."

Odin frowned, chewing on a particularly tough piece of toast.

"Where? How long for?"

"North. I'm not sure the area has a name of it's own. Perhaps half a day's ride. I'll barely be gone. Two or three at the most, but I may even be back by this evening if there are no delays."

And if he had Mjölnir practically sprint all the way, not that she'd put up with that.

Suspicion came across Odin's face.

"You're not... visiting your new friend from that banquet, are you? I thought we agreed that she was coquettish and best to be avoided."

"I am not. I may in future, from a purely observant position. It would be good to learn what tricks are used that I might avoid them better."

A chuckle, slightly bitter.

"Ah, yes. I've heard that one before. Go, then. Enjoy a pretty face, but don't let yourself become entangled too easily. Beauty fades, but a good spirit is forever."

It was almost funny, how certain and fixated he was. Thor would laugh at it, eventually, when his heart was not filled with fear.

As it was, he pushed Mjölnir hard after they set off as soon as they were ready, galloping whenever he was able to - though she had no problem with slowing to a walk once tired - and covering the distance as quickly as possible. Amora's estate, where Loki's current home was located, was isolated. Little farmland on it. A place for quiet meetings and covert schemes.

Big, though. And while the post master knew where to go, Thor had to admit he had absolutely no idea where to even start looking for Loki's cottage. Would it be relatively close to the big house? Who knew?

He certainly didn't want to ask anyone. In the event that anyone else lived here, they would be in Amora's pay. He'd rather not reveal himself to her unnecessarily.

A stable. There had to be a stable for Sleipnir. Therefore, he was looking for two buildings.

It began to rain as he entered his second or third hour of looking, eating the roll the kitchen had sent him off with. He was trying to be systematic, working his way slowly through the woodland pathways, trying to keep alert of any distinctive smells like horse or wood smoke. He was soon wet through, coat sticking to his back. It would be a fine thing, to come all this way only to catch pneumonia or a head cold.

Still, the rain had always been a friend to him, cleansing his skin and making the air easier to breathe, the soft sound of drops whispering in the undergrowth like a thousand little voices of encouragement.

He finally came across a building on the edge of one of the pieces of forest, almost falling down by the looks of it, thin whisps of smoke snaking through the chimney. If this wasn't Loki's dwelling, surely he could at least find a little shelter with whoever did live here.

He dismounted and knocked at the lichen-covered door, unable to see in through the dirty little windows. No answer.

Hmm...

Taking Mjölnir's bridle in hand, he explored round the back. A little leaning cover of thatch over a pile of logs for firewood, axe sitting upon them out of the worst of the weather.

And just what he'd been looking for, a small stable built onto the back of the cottage, just a simple bar holding it closed which was easily opened.

Sleipnir flicked his ears back and forth, eyes huge and rolling, though he calmed a little with gentle touches.

"Hey," Thor said gently, relieved to have found him. "It's alright. Hey, boy. Where's Loki, then?"

He must have made it home, for Sleipnir was unbridled, though his mane and tail were still tangled with twigs and leaves. It was very unlike Loki to leave him so uncared for, which meant the injury was likely serious. Thor made Mjölnir comfortable as quickly as he could and filled the troughs with hay and Water for both of them before practically sprinting round to the door again and hammering upon it.

Still no response. Either Loki was not home or...

With fear gripping his heart, Thor steeled himself and gave the door a solid kick.

It had only been lightly latched and flew open with an ugly clang.


	45. Care

Loki opened his eyes with some difficulty. He tried to move, but couldn't. He was... swaddled almost. Held in place with blankets tucked so tightly around him.

Oh, a cool balm against his head, that was nice, mmm...

"Loki?"

Thor's face swam into view, haloed and so handsome but utterly non-sensical. Why was he here? He shouldn't be here. Why couldn't he think properly?

"Have you poisoned me again?" he asked, or tried to anyway, interrupted by coughing.

"Don't hurt yourself," Thor said, pressing a cup to his lips. "Here, try to drink. Little sips."

It was water. Where had he got water? The nearest stream was so far away.

The sounds of drips falling filtered into his ears. Ah, one of his little cups left out to catch the rain from the leaking roof, then. Nice and cool, at least. He seemed incredibly warm and yet cold at the same time all over.

And his arm hurt. A lot. Ouch...

Ah, yes. He'd been shot, hadn't he? It was coming back now. He'd been shot and made it home and Amora had seen him patched up by one of her associates and put him back in the cottage and...

And then he couldn't remember too much. There was a bottle they'd given him, but he'd known the smell from somewhere and hadn't particularly wanted it. But the hurt had been so badly. Everything had ached and so he'd had a little lie down and maybe he'd had just a little...

"What day is it?"

"Wednesday. I think you were injured on Monday night. I came as soon as I could, as soon as I heard."

They must have treated him on Tuesday then, in the day time, and brought him home some time afterwards. So how long had he slept? Surely not a full 24 hours. He'd be far more dehydrated if that was the case. He was thirsty, not close to death.

No, he must have been broadly well, so why couldn't he remember?

Something of his experiences with Amora's doctor friend did start to come back though. He'd practically fallen in her door, woozy from blood loss but the man had soon put a stop to that when he arrived by stabbing his fingers into the wound to check the bullet had not left anything behind as it passed through skin and muscle and then by burning it closed with an iron poker heated in the fire. They'd given him a thick handkerchief to bite on and he had needed it.

The pain had been excruciating, white flashes behind his eyes, more of that horrible liquid to help numb him. Yes, that's what it was, wasn't it? The same taste. The tincture Thor had given him the day he'd taken the mask off.

No wonder he hadn't liked it, but the pain had been so much...

"I think... I think I drugged myself," he said, trying to sit up a little. "I don't think it's fever, not really."

Everything ached like fever. His head was woolly, fuzzy, still trying to make sense of Thor being here. His words made sense, but his presence did not.

He managed to drag his arm out, neat bandage in place. He wanted to look at it. Check on it. But using his left hand to undo the knot was not easy and he had to proffer it at Thor.

The gasp didn't sound good. Thor's jaw dropped, eyes even damper than they were before, utter horror written all over his face.

And then Loki saw it.

Well, that was going to be quite a scar. It was like part of his skin had been turned to leather, browned like a roast pig, the bullet exit wound like a hideous star upon his skin, raw and red still. He couldn't even see where it had gone in.

"It's not so bad," he said. "Hurts like hell though."

Oh, and he knew that look. Thor was about to try to make a decision for both of them and Loki was to have little say in the matter.

"You cannot do this again," he said, jaw set, brows furrowed. "Not ever. It's not safe."

"I made a mistake," Loki said, automatically trying to fold his arms but thinking better if it and holding out his right arm to be bound again. "After all these years, this is the worst I have to show for it."

"And what will the next mistake be?" Thor asked, his voice not helping Loki's headache. "Your heart? Your head? No more. It's too dangerous."

Always thought he knew best, didn't he?

"I did it for you!" Loki snapped. "I needed something big and special to give Amora so I could tentatively suggest we could find a way for me to leave her employ earlier than expected and then I was going to write to you and let you have that wretched row with your father."

"Well, you got your prize and now you can stop."

It was all so easy in his mind, wasn't it?

"Maybe," Loki said. "But I wasn't exactly in prime negotiating spirit when I last saw her, oddly enough. I doubt I managed to talk about the future very cohesively."

And there was a new look, one that suggested Thor had a plan.

"What will happen if we are honest with her?" he asked.

"Blackmail for the rest of our lives, probably."

"But long, happy lives otherwise."

Loki put his head in his hands.

"Thor, stop. I'm much too tired and sore to try to come up with any kind of strategy at the moment. Let me come back to myself first."

Thor grinned.

"That wasn't a no," he said.

Flopping dramatically back on the bed was a terrible decision and he shouldn't have done it as pain lanced down his arm.

"I'll get you something to eat," Thor said, standing up. "And then I'll brush Sleipnir down for you. He's well, but worried, I would say."

That certainly sounded like him.

Loki's eyes ached, but he couldn't help but watch Thor as he did his best in unfamiliar domestic territory. Unfamiliar both as a strange house and because he had never had to cook anything in his life. He tried, though, following Loki's mumbled directions to find the cool space beneath the trapdoor where the milk was kept and the grain on the shelf, hopefully out of reach of any wandering mice.

There's a cask of beer down there as well," Loki said. "Weak stuff, but safer than water."

Thor duly brought him a cupful, deliciously chilled from being underground.

Watching Thor try to make porridge though...

He glared at it as though his very gaze would encourage it to become edible faster, stirring and stirring the pot, making his fingers cut through the steam.

"Why does it take so long?"

"That's cooking for you, darling. Why do you think the cooks start everything so early?"

All the same, he couldn't resist that smile, Thor so proud of having successfully created something edible. And hot food, even something so bland, was wonderful. And all the better for who had made it for him.

A warm kiss to his cheek, Thor mumbling something about seeing to the stable, back soon.

Loki wolfed down his food - how long had it been since he'd eaten? - and tried to convince himself not to imagine a simpler life in a sweet little hovel with no one to bother them and all the milk gruel they could eat.

Not when he could also recall the taste of Thor's tart marmalade.


	46. Calm

Thor's shirt had dried in the time he'd been sitting waiting for Loki to wake, and he had no intention of getting it soaked again, slipping it off before going outside and heading round to the stable.

Sleipnir seemed calmer with Mjölnir next to him. Thor wondered if they'd somehow discussed what was happening, probably at their masters' expense.

Grooming was soothing, he found. He started with Sleipnir, since he clearly needed it, watching as he relaxed even further, carefully holding each piece of hair so it wouldn't pull or be tugged, giving him a proper rubdown afterwards and pleased to see his lower lip moving in a sure sign that he was calm and contented.

"Why can't you be so easy?" he asked Mjölnir, getting nothing but a snort before he began untangling her mane with long, gentle strokes of the brush.

Maybe he ought to brush Loki's hair too, he thought once he had two contented horses and a light sheen of exertion from how vigorously he'd done it. Comforting and soothing. Just the kind of thing he wanted to do for him right now.

He couldn't help but feel a little guilty that Loki was hurt. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. After all, it had been his plan that had driven Loki out onto the road that night anyway.

The rain was still coming down hard and Thor couldn't resist pausing to feel the cool water run over his skin, especially down his back and over his shoulders. Refreshing. Calming.

He idly ran his fingers through his hair with one hand as he opened the door, thankfully not broken from his attempts to kick it down, slicking it back, surprised to hear Loki gasp.

He looked over in some alarm. Was he in pain? Had he hurt himself?

His eyes found a picture of surprised want, Loki biting his lip, looking him up and down. Most odd, until he considered what he would be seeing if Loki were in his place. Bare chest glistening with rain water, tousled hair, nipples firm and a few little goosebumps... He hoped he made half so good a tableau for Loki as the one he was imagining.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, maybe flexing just a little bit, feeling a few drops run down his chest.

"You used to do that when we were young," Loki said, voice slightly strained. "Go out and stand in the rain, get soaked."

Thor shrugged. It was a want he couldn't adequately explain. He liked feeling as though nature was right there, almost within his body, the power and overwhelming breadth of it.

"You never came out with me," he said, moving to sit down at Loki's bedside again, enjoying how his eyes were so clearly fixed to his torso.

It felt good to be desired so.

"No. I always felt like a drowned rat. But I love seeing you like that. So free. Nothing to restrain you. As it should be."

Hmm... Well, since they were alone out here...

"There's nothing restraining me right now," he said. "I don't even have to rush home. If you're feeling better..."

"Delightful though the thought is, I don't think I'm up to any strenuous exercise right now."

"I wasn't intending for you to have to move so much as a muscle."

Ah, that had him intrigued. Thor had not done this before, but how hard could it be, really?

He pushed the scratchy blankets up so Loki's torso would be kept warm. It made him look odd, legs bared against grey sheets as Thor eased him out of his clothes.

"Don't try to go too fast," Loki said. "It's a skill, it has to be learned."

"Had you learned it before you tried on me?"

"Well, no, but..."

"I'm sure I'll pick it up."

In truth he was a little more apprehensive than he was letting on. He wanted to do it, but finally having Loki right there, half-nude and hard for him, he couldn't help but hesitate. How would it taste? How should he approach it?

He'd never been one to shy away from simply diving in though, lowering his head and wrapping his lips around it.

Oh, bitter. Really bitter. But Loki let out the most delicious cry and Thor knew it would be worth it, using his tongue liberally.

Loki sighed and moaned and Thor loved it, loved how he could focus on every little sound. He could learn, just as Loki said, exactly how to elicit each one, how to make them happen.

He bobbed his head to hear Loki gasp for breath, reaching down with his good arm, as though needing to touch, needing to feel.

He lathed the head with his tongue, gentle and sweet, getting long, plaintive keens, as though Loki didn't know whether to enjoy this torture or beg for something more.

And best of all, he got to enjoy the way Loki's voice went slightly slurred and thick as he grew close.

"Ah, Thor... Mmm, yes, keep going. Keep going... Oh, don't stop, I-I'm..."

He had resigned himself to how unpleasant the taste would be, and swallowed as quickly as he could, like taking medicine, trying not to let his distaste show on his face.

And then he got to look up at Loki.

His cheeks were pink, chest heaving, lashes so thick where they fluttered as he opened his eyes, reaching for Thor once again with his good arm.

They weren't anywhere near the quality of his sheets at home and, in fact, Thor couldn't quite believe they were sheets at all and not some kind of straw matting, but anywhere he got to kiss and cuddle with Loki was perfect.

"Did I do well?" he asked.

"Mmm. You're a natural."

"I have a good teacher."

"Flatterer..."

They were still giggling when someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

"Well, this looks very cosy," Amora said. "But no invitation for me? How disappointing."

There were few worse feelings in life, Thor found, than having choice taken away.


	47. Caught

Loki had only once felt his heart sink so fast before and that had been on the day he was evicted from his home.

"I... I can explain," he said.

"Oh, please do," Amora said, looking disparagingly at his humble abode as she entered properly. "I'd love to know all the details. I'd savour them."

He winced. Was this it? Admit it all? Allow her to have that much power over them? But then again, what else did they have to conceal, having practically been caught in the act, as it were?

Thor had wrapped an arm around him protectively, which was very nice, but not exactly what he needed right at the present second, giving his hand a like squeeze before sitting up.

"I'd stand, but I'm afraid you'd find me indecent."

"I doubt you have anything I haven't seen before."

Well, no, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

"I have beer, if you'd like some. Your local brew."

"I brought my own drink, thank you. I thought you might need cheering up, though I see you had a better offer so I shan't bother sharing. Exactly how long have you two been conspiring?"

That hadn't quite been the question he'd expected. She seemed rattled and that confused him.

"Conspiring?"

She pulled the cork from her bottle with her teeth and slugged out a large cup of wine and Loki suddenly got the sensation that he was seeing her as she really was far the first time, without the poise and cultivated false smiles.

"You think I'm stupid?" she said softly. "You said it, didn't you? And I agree. We are the same kind of person. I remember being you at this stage, though I was younger than you are now, I feel. How do you think I got my empire? Do you really think I built it from scratch myself? No, no... I stole it, like I steal everything I want. And now you are here and you want to take it from me in turn."

Loki was stunned. It genuinely hadn't entered his head to try usurping the thief queen.

"Smart, though," Amora said. "Using the Asgard estate to launder your takings is an obvious move, but having a respectable front in your lover is a stroke of genius. I should have done that instead of marrying an old fool for his money."

Loki practically felt Thor bristle and tried to hold him back.

Might as well have tried to hold back the tide.

"How dare you, madam?" Thor said, anger palpable. "We have no interest in your business or in trying to take anything from you. My estate is not built on crime."

She snorted.

"Is it not? Are you sure?"

"Quite certain."

"I suppose, come to think of it, making children work until their hands bleed in your fields is perfectly legal. No matter how we try, Odinson, we are all thieves in the end. I am merely more pragmatic about it."

Thor was upset and when he was upset, he was liable to say things be didn't mean to. And no doubt Amora could sense that, would try to goad him into something he'd regret.

"I feel a little vulnerable," Loki said sharply, trying to break her spell. "Thor, would you mind holding the blanket up so I can dress behind it? I'm sure I shall be a much better host if I am not abed."

She couldn't see their expressions for a moment. Loki widened his eyes, trying to tell him to calm down. Thor frowned and pouted. Loki gave him an eyeroll, yanking his trousers on even as his arm twinged with being used.

"Thank you," he said, sidestepping Thor's bulk. "I shall take it from here."

"Need to protect your pet noble?" Amora asked.

"Not at all. But having spent more time in your presence, I feel I have a greater advantage."

"Hm. Well, having spent time around you, I'm amazed that you are the brains of the outfit."

Loki chuckled, draining what was left of his beer.

"That's a rather harsh on yourself, since as you say, we are the same."

She blushed hotly and Loki knew exactly what was happening. She had been surprised by this turn of events, had lost her intellectual footing a little and was now trying to haul her way back to solid ground, hurling whatever insults she could to try to unbalance him in turn.

"You're scared," he said, getting a scoff in response.

"I've faced worse than you, Loki, trust me."

He believed her. And while he knew he ought to be calming the situation, he also wanted to be cautious. She could not be trusted. Neither of them could, her or him.

Poor Thor, coming into this nest of fighting vipers, so unprepared.

"Maybe you should... go," Loki said to him.

"This concerns us both," Thor said, sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms folded. "I'll stay."

Fair enough. Two heads were generally better than one, he supposed. He held out his cup hopefully, and told Thor to help himself as well.

"You don't have to worry about him lying," he told Amora. "He hasn't a dishonest bone in his body."

"He stood in front of me and behaved as though you have never met. I doubt this is a new affair since that night. Forgive me for saying so, but I find relationships of your kind take rather a lot of negotiation and mutual trust before beginning."

Loki thought back to kissing Thor at gunpoint in the woods. Just once, he'd thought. And now look where they were.

"You'd be surprised," he said.

Thor brought him a fresh cup, swigging one of his own, and settled at his feet to give Amora what was probably an impressive glare.

"Besides," Loki continued. "That wasn't a lie. It just wasn't acknowledging the truth. Which is, to cut a long story short, that we have known one another most of our lives and seek a way for me to retire from my life of crime into respectable valet service."

She raised an eyebrow at him, disbelieving.

"You'd give it all up? The money and the freedom, to go back to service?"

"Yes. That's what I want."

She seemed confused. Perplexed. His dream was not hers and she could not empathise.

"Well... Must be quite something in bed, that's all I can say."

Thor sputtered into his beer as Loki patted him gently on the back.

"It's more than that," he said. "He's home. All I want is to go home."


	48. Dismissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry, very busy, but I promise I will get to comments later on. They are all very much appreciated!

Thor's heart hadn't so much skipped a beat as suddenly tried to do too many beats all at once at Loki's words. Home? A place of safety and freedom, of being oneself, warm and secure. Was that truly how he made Loki feel? Really?

He couldn't say the same. Loki was too exciting for that. He was running in the rain, galloping faster than you thought possible, he was laughter and music and the stars themselves.

Maybe that was the point. They each found what they'd been missing in the other. Passion. Stability. Intrigue. Companionship.

That's what he'd been missing all those years they were apart. His best friend. His only friend, sometimes.

Amora was looking at them with something close to pity in her eyes.

"Now, do not misunderstand me," she said. "It's not that I don't believe in love. I've been in love once or twice. But this... This dream you have is just that. A dream."

"That's our business," Loki said. "The question is... would you like to profit here? A simple letter of reference. That's all we want. Name your price. It might take us some time to siphon you the money, but..."

A raised finger, lips pursed and a little frown.

"Now, wait," she said. "I did not agree to this. I agreed to a thousand pounds in return for my lie. Now you want me to give you the letter in good faith and expect you not to betray me the very second you are free?"

"You will have our word," Thor said.

He did not believe he had ever seen someone so overcome by mirth in his life. She cried with laughter, desperately trying to wipe her eyes with her sleeve.

"Skilled in bed and funny too," she said. "Aren't you lucky? No, but be serious. I will need more than that. Much more."

Thor felt a distinct feeling of unease settle in his stomach. What would she demand? They were completely at her mercy.

"I agreed to rob you," Loki said. "To draw suspicion away. I am more than happy to do so, whenever you can gather suitable witnesses."

She shook her head, smiling at them, and Thor was suddenly put in mind of a great cat with a mouse, letting it try to run before catching it by the tail and dragging it back to play with some more.

"Not enough," she said. "I'm afraid I must insist that you allow me to renegotiate our terms. And tell me your plan of action."

Thor looked at Loki. He had kept stressing the importance of not allowing Amora to know too much. Should they mention his father? The truth of how Loki had become the Shadow?

Loki drummed his fingers against his knee, evidently also wrestling with such questions.

"Thor," he said. "Have you mentioned my mistress to your father?"

"Er... Yes. In fact, though I gave an excuse as to why I had to travel away from home, but he interpreted it as a cover for... For meeting her."

"He was half-right, I suppose," Amora said. "And I trust you only told him good things?"

Thor ignored her. Loki seemed to be mulling things over.

"Right," he said eventually. "You did come here and you saw me in her home. Confront him upon your return. There is no sense in delaying any further. You're right. Waiting just means there's more risk of things going wrong."

Normally Loki saying he was right would be a cause for teasing, but not now. He was being dismissed. He was being sent away.

"Loki..."

"No. That is your responsibility. And the rest is up to me. Amora and I will come to an understanding, I'm sure."

Thor did not like this, being shut out of the conversation. What might Loki agree to? What sacrifices might he make? He did not like it at all.

"I would rather know what schemes she cooks up."

"And I will tell you. Go home. Talk to Odin."

No amount of sad eyes seemed to move him. Thor had hoped to spend more time with him, more time together having come so close to danger. But he would not fight. He would not leave on an argument.

"Very well," he said, getting up. "If you insist."

He glanced at Amora briefly before leaning in for a kiss. He didn't care what she thought. He was going to kiss his lover if he wanted to.

"Be safe," he whispered. "Be careful."

"Be strong," Loki replied.


	49. Negotiations

Loki waited until he heard Mjölnir's hoof beats depart, slapping against the wet ground, and then sighed.

"He is off the table, Amora," he said. "Leave him alone."

She gave him an innocent expression, one that must have been carefully cultivated over years of practice.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please! I saw how you were looking at him, like you were trying to decide whether to boil or fry him. I could see your mind working. What is better than an elderly husband living overseas? A husband you can control. The perfect veneer of respectability."

"It would be elegant," she said. "Think on it. No need for a reference. I shall merely move you into Asgard to be my husband's valet."

It would be elegant, yes. He knew it. And that was why he had to tread carefully to avoid it. He could not allow this to go on.

"Thor's father us not the kind of man you wish to live with, believe me. He will see through you in seconds."

"I heard he was blind."

It took a great deal of effort to resist the urge to growl.

"Stop," he said, trying for a calm tone. "Stop playing games with our lives. I will give you anything you desire, so long as you leave us be afterwards. I want to be free from this life, to leave it altogether."

"And that includes me. I see."

"You like this life. You have no plans to leave it. So tell me what else you would accept as payment for this inconvenience."

She shook her head, tutting.

"You have quite a problem, Loki. You appear to be under the misapprehension that you have any grounds to negotiate on. I have all the cards and you know it."

"Not him," Loki begged, rusty from years without practice. "Please."

"It would be a false marriage. You can't think I would be a threat to your relationship, surely."

"Your business is a risk. I have to protect him, ultimately."

A little giggle, somewhere between a snort and a full laugh.

"So you want to protect him and he wants to protect you, but neither of you have any means of doing so. Simply tragic. But maybe you can thaw my frozen heart just a little, with the right acts."

He was going to regret this, wasn't he? And his arm was really throbbing now, making him sloppy. Ignore the pain, concentrate, do not be tricked...

"What acts?"

"Well, you must come to a few more parties with me, for a start. We must ensure no one suspects you are the Shadow. We'll hide your arm. You will also, as discussed, have to rob me as agreed. However, I will forgo your monetary debt to me for another little favour."

"Which is?"

"I'd like you to help me kill my husband-to-be."

Loki blinked, certain he must have misheard.

"I'm sorry?"

"My fiancé. I'm afraid he just doesn't fit in with my lifestyle anymore. He's old. It's practically a kindness. Newlywed, he'll die happy."

"Why not just leave him? Is his fortune really so big as to justify murder?"

"I wouldn't trouble myself if it wasn't."

Was he actually considering this? Stealing was one thing, and with his record would put him away for a long, long time, but murder would mean hanging.

"You said 'help.' I trust that means you will strike the final blow yourself?"

"Of course not. I will let nature do that. Weak heart. All I need is for someone to give him a little fright..."

This might be the most ridiculous plan he'd ever heard, and that was saying something considering his choices in life.

"How do you plan to go about it?" he asked.

After all, he could always say no. Deal with the lesser consequences.

"I plan to be married in a few months. I'll dismiss you from service. While I am gone, you can attend to your gentleman love, settle into your new life. And then, when my husband travels with me to see my home... Trouble on the road. Theft and murder. One last glory for the Shadow. And only then will our business be concluded."

It was ridiculous.

But it might just be his only option.


	50. A Long-Awaited Discussion

Thor arrived in time for supper, just. His heart was so full, so lost in the ride over. Loki was bartering for their souls back there, for their lives. And though he desperately wanted to hear how his father tried to defend and justify his actions, how to actually do it? How to start that conversation?

A long time ago, when he was very young, he remembered hurting himself in the garden, catching his fingers on a thorn from one of the roses his mother had loved so much. It was not the memory of the hurt that lingered, but what his mother had said when he asked why she kept such evidently monstrous and dangerous plants.

"Sometimes the flower is worth the thorn."

That was exactly it. Loki was worth the pain of this conversation.

"How was the barley?" his father asked, jolly and teasing, unprepared for what was about to happen.

Thor tried not to let the guilt bother him too much. His food sat on his plate, untouched for all that he was ravenous. He had barely eaten all day, after all.

"You were right, Father," he said. "I lied. I was seeing a lady. But in her house I... I met an old friend. One I had never thought to see again."

He ought to have chosen his timing more carefully. Odin had been about to take a sip of the sweet tea he drank with every meal, for digestion supposedly, and his cup shattered on the floor after dropping from his fingers, hot liquid spilling everywhere.

He trembled as Thor stood to pick up the pieces, stilling his anger with such evident distress.

"You know who I'm referring to, then?" Thor asked, kneeling on the floor, careful to keep his voice calm and steady.

Odin swallowed hard.

"Loki Laufeyson," he croaked. "Who else could it be?"

Thor sighed heavily, trying his best to mop up the spillage with his napkin.

"You told me he was dead."

"No. I did not. You merely assumed..."

"Father, please. Do not try to twist this any more."

He felt like a child again at this angle, looking up as his father put his head in his hands.

"I had to do it, Thor. It was for the best. You were growing up and it had become increasingly obvious to me that your friendship was becoming too much like... Like something else."

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw the way you looked at him. I knew that look, Thor."

"What look? He was my dearest friend..."

"It was the same way your mother used to look at me when we were young."

That had him stunned. Of all the things he had expected to hear...

"What was I supposed to do?" Odin said miserably. "I wish I had not done it now, but I felt I had no choice. It could not be allowed to go on. It was only a matter of time before you made a mistake, or worse, someone else realised the truth."

"You let me think he had died. You let me mourn him. And all that time, he was merely in the next county. You could have spoken to me. You could have told me."

"I could not. You would have been furious. And I am truly sorry. I thought you would bounce back easily, that it was merely a youthful phase. If I had known how it would have affected you... But it had to be done. And after your mother passed, I... I could not lose you too. I had to keep it secret, even as you grew older. You would have hated me if I had told you the truth."

Despite himself, Thor found he was sniffling.

"You lost your dearest love," he said softly, voice growing thick. "So you know the pain of it. Not when you did it, but now. And Loki was wronged, he... He has suffered as a direct result of that dismissal which was not his fault. And soon he will be without employment again. His mistress is to be wed and will no longer require his services. We spoke for hours. I intend to ask him to return here, Father."

He expected a fight.

He didn't expect Odin to sit back in his chair, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Will he make you happy? So you still feel something for him?"

"I... I think so. It was strange, as though we had never been apart. I hope we may become close again, given time. You're not angry?"

Odin laughed, a rare sound, but he sounded sad all the same.

"I like to think I've managed to acquire a little wisdom in all my years. I don't understand this love, but if it makes you happy, I cannot in good conscience stand in your way. Not now. I'm too old, you are too grown. I will not deny that I feel a degree of concern that you will regret this, but that is your business. It is for you to decide what is and is not a mistake."

Regrets? What regrets could he possibly have?

They were not generally a physically affectionate family, not since they lost Frigga. Though Thor was tempted to embrace his father, instead he took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Thank you."

He finally stood up, china shards carefully held in the napkin.

"Remember though, he is your servant," Odin said. "Friend or... anything else or not."

"What do you mean?"

"For both your sakes, I expect a degree of propriety in this house. He will be a servant. Not an equal."

Not around anyone else, Thor thought.

He took the broken cup down to the kitchen after eating. After all, he had an announcement to make.

"Don't get up, please," he said, knowing the servants would leap to their feet anyway. "Broken cup for disposal, unless anyone has a use for porcelain shards. And I have some news. I am to take on a valet in the next few months."

A little murmur of excitement from the maids. A young man would be quite a treat in their minds, no doubt. What a shame for them.

"Have you found one already, or will you be placing an advertisement, sir?" Heimdall asked.

"No, it's... It's Loki Laufeyson."

He watched Heimdall's face move from his usual serenity to a faint frown, slight concern.

"Does your father know of this?"

"Yes. He does."

It felt wrong to be blunt with Heimdall. Though he was acutely concerned with the correct etiquette and social rules, it often felt as though he was the real master of the house. It was difficult for Thor to shake that feeling from his mind.

"I trust it will not be a problem?" he asked.

Heimdall blinked, long and slow, jaw set.

"Of course not, sir. I look forward to his return."

No, he didn't.

But Thor did. More than he could say.

He wrote a letter to Loki before going to bed, keen for it to be sent as soon as possible.

_Come as soon as you can. I'm waiting for you. Everything will be well, I promise._

He hoped that was not a promise he'd have to break.


	51. Doubts

It took every ounce of self-control Loki had to resist abandoning Amora to run back to Thor as soon as he received the note. Alas, a deal was a deal. He was stuck with her until she left for the continent.

She began phasing out the house thefts - after all, it would be distinctly obvious if the stealing were to suddenly stop the very second she was not in the country, for all that Loki's skill at subtlety meant several had not been noticed or reported yet.

And her operatives were in the most unexpected places. She might well send someone to continue after she was gone, just to further throw suspicion.

The months were going to crawl by, though to be fair it did mean he was in the right place to be given further medical attention while his arm healed. He needed poultices and salves and smears of honey to help prevent infection. Gradually, the wound scarred over, the burn becoming less rough. His skin peeled horribly, like a snake shedding, but beneath it was pink and smooth. The scar would always be obvious, but at least he knew the pain would end in time.

And the dinners and parties and balls Amora dragged him to, while they had never exactly been pleasant, were now tedious in the extreme, especially as he kept looking for Thor and couldn't help but be disappointed every time he was not there. Not his kind of thing. And no doubt, he wanted to be careful to avoid arousing suspicion by suddenly acquiring a social side.

Loki had already decided not to tell him about Amora's new ultimatum. He would only try to prevent it. And Loki was telling himself that it wasn't murder, not really, just a little nudge in the right direction. He was kidding himself though and he knew it.

It might be a step too far, even for him. The risk too great.

"You're so melancholy lately," she said to him one night in the carriage home. "Having second thoughts about leaving me?"

Don't glare. Don't pout, don't fight, that's what she wants...

"I was bored and tired, that's all. Even wandering around such a beautiful house is dull with no purpose to it."

"They didn't have much worth taking anyway."

Yes, they did. And she knew it. But he'd started to notice this aloofness of late. She pretended she didn't care about the spoils when in reality it was everything.

Pride, Loki assumed. She was establishing herself as a lady of means, so even in private she would pretend to be above material concerns.

How better to hunt fortunes than to disguise the threat behind shiny gowns and casual wealth?

"You're eager to leave me, I think," she said, setting Loki's fear instincts into motion.

"I'm eager to be with my lover," he said, unusually candid. Maybe that would ease her concerns.

"Having seen him, I don't blame you," she said. "Though I doubt a man like that is without admirers."

She was implying something, but he refused to listen.

"He's not the most sociable, in case you hadn't noticed. He doesn't meet many people."

"All the better. Less likely to have his head turned by a younger, prettier version."

"What are you getting at?"

"Nothing. Just that it's very fortunate you're not the jealous type."

Oh, but he was and she knew it and now she was trying to drive a wedge and no. No, he refused to be led down this road. Thor was his and his alone. If he had wanted anyone else, if either of them had, there had been opportunity galore.

"Do you enjoy trying to twist people's minds?" he asked as she stopped the carriage outside his cottage, having treated her to sullen silence most of the way home.

"Of course," she said, closing the door. "And how dare you act like you don't? After all, he would never have liked you in the first place if you hadn't put the idea in his head."

He should have brought it up sooner. Now she had the last word, rolling into the night, and he only had doubts and half-formed retorts.

He lit his little stub of candle, unusually for he generally preferred to move around in darkness after night fell, and read Thor's note for the hundredth time. Words of excitement, of anticipation. Thor wanted him.

But the question was in his head now. Would Thor have felt that way if he had not shown him it was an option? If they had met as they were pretending, as adults with no secrets, would he ever have had the same response as he had had for the masked man in the woods?

And even that first kiss had not been given willingly.

He'd stolen it. Just as he stole everything he had.

Just as he'd stolen Thor.

The thought came to him unbidden and wouldn't leave. Thor was something else he didn't deserve, something he had claimed at the point of a gun because it was shiny and he wanted it and he could.

But once the novelty and the thrill wore off, what then? What if another did come to steal him in turn? This was supposed to be the end of the Shadow, the end of his thieving, moving off into the sunset with the best prize possible. But what if he couldn't keep him forever?

He couldn't even believe that he would trust Thor's words, if it came to that. He would say all honeyed things and he would have utter faith in their future life together but Loki did not trust the future any more than he could see into it.

Then again, he had said it himself, hadn't he? Having Thor in any way was better than nothing having him at all. Maybe loving and losing him was better than never having had the chance. It was even worth living in Odin's house again. Worth dealing with Heimdall's knowing, accusatory gaze.

But he would have to be strong, to build armour around his heart.

If the pain came, he would be ready for it.

Or so he told himself anyway.


	52. Dreaming

Thor was beside himself for months, thoroughly getting on everyone's nerves with his distraction and sudden ideas. Every day might be THE day. The day Loki would return to him.

He informed Heimdall and his father of his intention to press the neighbouring bedroom to his own into Loki's use, bearing the weight of the looks they gave him. It was his life and his father had begrudgingly given his blessing and though he would not flaunt their affair, he also had no intention of sending Loki to sleep either on the upper floor near the maids or down where Heimdall and Sif had their private rooms. A man's valet ought to be accessible...

And a man ought to be accessible to his lover.

He did allow Heimdall to use slightly lower quality sheets than his own, thinner, rougher, and none of the fine embroidery that he enjoyed of course. He wanted the best for Loki, but he also did not want to cause any more friction than was necessary. The room was stripped of most furniture, but even with just a bed, wardrobe and ablutions stand, it was still very comfortable. He hoped.

And the secret corridor... Thor had been busy, rootling through long-forgotten piles of paper to find interesting art to hang up on the stark plastered walls.

Old maps, beautiful sketches of how the house had looked before extensions or improvements were made, drawings of horses and birds. Hidden things, for Loki's eyes only.

And then all he could do was wait. Wait and hope and check the post. Every day, his hopes rose. Every day, they were dashed. 

When Loki crawled into his bed in the middle of the night, he thought he was dreaming. It made no sense to be woken with a kiss.

He kissed back all the same. He wasn't about to break whatever spell this was, curiously finding bare skin, his hands automatically skimming up from waist over ribs, and then thinking a little and reaching for where the wound would be.

His fingers met roughness, and then the strangest, smooth scar tissue. It was really him, then.

"You didn't tell me you were coming," Thor murmured.

"Mm. I'm staying in town. Wanted it to be a surprise. But, well... I also wanted one more night with you as the Shadow before I have to be just Loki again."

Thor frowned slightly. What an odd thing to say.

"Alright," he said. "But know this - I care for you no matter who you are. Loki, the Shadow, I don't care. It's you I love and you are always you."

He couldn't see anything in the dark, but he could feel kisses, let himself be pushed back so Loki could lie on top of him, fingers tangled in his hair, little breathy sighs against his skin.

Neither of them were pressing for anything to move on. This was perfect, rolling hips, long, lingering kisses...

Their legs locked together somewhere along the line and Thor discovered how wondrous it was to grind upwards against Loki's thigh and to feel him grinding down in turn. Slow and teasing, not at all urgent until suddenly it was.

A slight snarl escaped Thor's lips, his hands on Loki's hips to tug him closer than seemed possible, finding a rhythm between the two of them, so, so, close...

Loki gasped by his ear, breath hot, and Thor could hold back no longer, spilling in his sleep clothes in a way he hadn't since adolescence.

And then he had arms full of warm Loki, everything he could possibly want, mumbling in complaint as he began to wriggle away as though trying to leave.

"I have to go."

"Stay."

"Thor..." and he managed to break free, moving to use Thor's face towel to wipe himself down. "I need to arrive here with my things bright and early in the morning. So I need to get back. And you need to sleep."

He was talking a lot of sense, but that didn't mean Thor had to like it.

"I did mean it, you know," he said softly. "I love you."

"I believe you."

A brief, awkward pause.

"Do... Do you also...?" Thor tried.

Loki sighed and approached, cupping Thor's face in one hand.

"I fear I would not call it love," he said. "But I do feel something. A connection, a need. I feel safe with you. Maybe that is love. I wouldn't know. I've only ever felt it for one person."

Thor could do nothing but kiss him and let him go.

It certainly sounded like love to him.


	53. Gifts

Heimdall evidently did not like him and Loki couldn't help but feel that it was entirely mutual.

"You are expected to wear a uniform at all times of service. Be up before Master Thor and attend to him before breakfast..."

Ha. As if they could stop him 'attending' to him.

"He must be left alone while he work unless he summons you, during which time I expect you to perform any and all tasks assigned to you by myself or Miss Sif. If we have nothing to occupy you, see to the care of Master Thor's shoes, wardrobe, room, horse..."

So, essentially, wait on Thor hand and foot for the look of the thing, to make it seem as though nothing was going on.

"Sundays are a free day, though you may be expected to attend church. Otherwise, it is for Master Thor to decide when you are dismissed and when you are called."

How could anyone put up with such tedium? Waiting for bells and shouts your whole life, even in the night.

"Come," Heimdall said. "I'll show you to your room."

Loki didn't know what he had expected. The attic perhaps. A downstairs room. Even back to the stable, for all he knew.

He did not expect to be taken up the plush, carpeted staircase and along the corridor to the room beside Thor's chamber.

"Here?" he asked outside the door.

Heimdall fixed him with the same kind of look that one would give an insect or something else vaguely distasteful.

"Master Thor seems to believe he would like to have you close at hand, as it were."

And they all thought they knew why. Loki, however, knew the truth. While the benefits of such close quarters with regards to their relationship were obvious, this was a gift from Thor. He had chosen a wonderful room, still with decorative tapestries on the walls for all that an effort had been made to make it plain and dull. A room for an equal. Not a cupboard or a box of a room, but one that would be suitable for guests.

"I'll leave you to settle in. Come down to the kitchen when you are dressed and ready."

Loki threw himself back on the bed, and what a bed it was. Soft and large. So different from the cot he'd been sleeping in all these months in the cottage.

Even at the height of his success as the Shadow, even when he was trying to earn an honest living, he had never really had a home since he'd left Asgard. He'd had lodgings and rooms for a night or two, forever moving on, but none of them were a place he belonged as such.

It was nice to have a sense of home again.

He started to organise things the way he wanted them, shaving mirror by the window, where there was the best light, his few meagre possessions put away, and was hanging his clothes when familiar arms wrapped around him from behind.

Thor swept his hair to the side and kissed his neck, beard tickling him a little.

"I had the most amazing dream last night," he murmured. "That you came and visited me. And now here you are."

That was all very nice, but the door definitely hadn't opened.

"Were you hiding under the bed?"

Thor laughed, that warm, open laugh just the same as it had been when they were children.

"No. I have a surprise for you. Look."

How had he not seen it? The line on the wall, the clear outline of a hidden door. A hidden passage.

Thor eased it open, a candle already resting on a small table within to light their way.

"I thought... I thought it might be easier for both of us if there was a private way connecting our rooms. So we won't have to try sneaking along the hall."

He gave Loki the candle and let him explore the evidence of other closed off passages and the art that decorated the walls. Beautiful things. Exquisite drawings and paintings of strange, bright animals.

"I realise it's not ideal," Thor continued. "But, well, I tried to make it nice as best I could."

"It is," Loki said, a little breathless. All this for him? So thoughtful. "It's wonderful."

Thor grinned, a little shyly perhaps. Embarrassed by his romantic gesture.

Maybe Loki could help with that.

"Come here," he said. "Lean against the wall."

"What for?"

"I want to say thank you."

"You don't have to."

Loki placed a finger against his lips.

"I want to," he said. "Really. You just relax."

He dropped to his knees, uncaring of the floorboards' hardness, and unlaced Thor's breeches, wanting to be leisurely, but knowing they had precious little time. 

As an after thought, he blew out the candle to leave them in near-perfect darkness.

"Relax," he said again. "And feel."


	54. Triumphs and Worries

Thor blinked, the after images of the candle flame and the way it had illuminated Loki's face still hanging before his eyes.

And then Loki ran his tongue gently over the head of his cock and his head hit the wall. It was like being blindfolded again, unsure what Loki was going to do next. And that was strangely exhilarating.

Quick and a little coolly, Loki began bobbing his head, sucking hard. They had no time for anything else, Thor knew, but all the same, he would have preferred more romance.

Intellectually, perhaps. Physically, he was a little overwhelmed, his fingers tangling in Loki's hair, feeling his movements. A hum almost made his knees give out.

"Later," Loki said. "I'll let you so the pushing and pulling at whatever speed you want. But for now, may I finish?"

His breath was so hot against Thor's hypersensitive skin. Every word sent a shiver through him.

"Thor?"

"Uh? Um. Yes. Yes, please."

A dark chuckle that echoed around the passageway, and then that warm, wet mouth was back and he could do nothing but try to stay on his feet.

His gasping breath seemed so loud, his moans surely audible throughout the house. He might have to test that.

He was definitely accidentally pulling Loki's hair when he climaxed, his whole body feeling it intensely. And the kiss afterwards, tasting something that might be his own essence on Loki's tongue.

"And now... you ought to get back to work," Loki said, tucking him back in. "While I report to Heimdall. And no one will know we have so much as spoken yet. I like this. I like it very much."

Thor didn't feel like his mind was working enough to be productive yet as he felt his way back along the passage to this own chamber. This was a magic place. It was as though it had happened in a place between waking and sleeping, in a daydream perhaps.

He was going to enjoy discovering just what else they could do together when they had time to communicate and plan.

But, alas, he had to put a comb through his hair for propriety's sake and rush to catch up on that he ought to have been doing all this time. There were reports to read and respond to, ledgers to update...

Oh. Yes, there was an important thing to note, wasn't there?

Thor smiled as he inked his pen and gently touched the nib to the page, the scratching sound intensely satisfying.

_Loki Laufeyson accepted invitation to return and take up employment as the valet of Thor Odinson_

Yes, that was a good way of wording it. A simple fact. An invitation extended and now his best friend had returned.

The employment angle was not ideal, but there was little he could realistically do about that. If it were up to him, they would sleep in the same bed all the time and live as partners. Alas, that was not possible for so many reasons. Still, the worry was already eating at him. How long would Loki manage to play pretend before he became disillusioned?

They had talked of love, had they not? What if that was not enough? Could they be equals if he was in the position of power? He could always let Loki take all the control in the bedroom, he supposed.

But was that enough? A partnership was not built on trust and equality, not just on pleasures, exquisite though they were.

He would have to tread carefully and monitor this. It would not do to lose Loki through carelessness having had to wait so long to have him again.

It would be vital to take care of his every whim without him realising how much Thor was trying to take care of him.

How difficult could that be?


	55. New Job

So many rules... Loki had dressed in the clothes provided for him, though the trousers really needed to be taken down an inch or two, and hurried downstairs to Heimdall's office where he was put to work shining shoes and being lectured.

He learned about the bells, how if he was downstairs, either of the two bells marked with Thor's name could ring at any moment and he was to respond immediately to either his room or the office.

He learned about laundry, the household one and the clothing one, that Miss Sif would handle the clothes but he was to ensure that Thor's sheets were pressed and folded ready to be put into circulation again. He was to check the embroidery for loose threads as such defects needed to be taken to town for repair. Thor's handkerchiefs were monogrammed and required careful attention with the iron. His shoes were to be shone. His saddle waxed. Buttons checked for coming loose. Laces tested. And that was just for appearances. They had not begun to cover the other daily tasks yet.

Did Thor know how much industry there was around him alone? Or did he think these things just happened? Certainly, the housekeeper seemed to believe that a key sign of good work was for it to go unnoticed.

He did not believe he had met her before but she must have arrived soon after he had gone. She was young, extraordinarily so for her level of seniority, and Loki had the unkind gut reaction that Odin must have employed her in an attempt to tempt Thor and break his fascination with a certain stable boy. But she ran a tight ship. The other maids fluttered around her being sent back to redo work deemed unsatisfactory. Loki was not looking forward to having his shining prowess inspected.

"You must be the famous Mr Laufeyson," she'd said, entering the kitchen. "You have quite the tale, I understand."

"It's really not very interesting, I'm afraid."

Someone else might have pushed, but not Miss Sif. It was odd that she was so called too. Most female staff of her level would automatically be called Mrs as a mark of respect, even though they were highly unlikely to be married and still working. And it was not her surname being used either. Most unusual. He would have to ask Thor about that.

"Now you are here, I suppose I can push the work related to Thor onto you?" she said.

No title, he noticed. Shocking familiarity, really. As though they were friends.

"Indeed," he said, buffing a boot carefully. "That is what I'm here for, after all."

She smiled at him, though there was little happiness behind it. Fair enough. He was waltzing into her territory and getting all kinds of unfair allowances.

"You'll take him his meals, pour his drinks, but leave once the port is served. Follow Mr Heimdall's lead. And I expect you here after you have served his breakfast to assist. We could use another strong pair of hands."

"I'll do my best, Miss."

He meant it too. He intended to make a success of this second chance.

She came and looked over his shoulder, frowning lightly, and he was stuck by how very, very different she was to Amora, the only other woman he had seen in close quarters like this. They were both tall and slender, yes, but there was no artifice here. No false grace. She was good at her work and had no reason not to be as honest as the tasks she turned her hands to. She seemed grudgingly pleased with his efforts, lips curved down as she nodded.

"Right," she said. "Not bad. You can be trusted to handle his collars and cuffs, I think."

The smell of the harsh soap they used to ensure these more visible areas of Thor's clothes were perfectly white were much harsher than the stuff Loki had used for himself. Perhaps that was why his went grey so quickly.

Regardless, it was going to roughen his hands rather. No gloves to protect him here.

And maybe that was a good thing.

Steady, dull work at least distracted him from the uneasy wait for word from Amora.


	56. Concerns

There was something deeply uncomfortable for Thor in having Loki serve his dinner. It felt wrong. They ought to be eating together.

And it was worse having to sit there while Odin talked to Loki, turning his head as he tried to follow his voice, moving around the room.

"Thor tells me you've had quite the time of it," he said, trying for kindly but mainly seeming guilty. As well he might.

Loki glanced at Thor as though looking for help. A clue perhaps.

"I've had some hard times," he said, stirring the gravy. "And I have had to move around rather a lot. Sir. Which was difficult, at times."

"Hmm. Glad to be back then?"

"Yes, sir. Very. Thank you."

The awkwardness was more than Thor could bear and he quickly tried to distract them all with every little thing that entered his head. It wasn't a sustainable technique, but it would do for the first night. While they all got used to things.

If they ever got used to things.

The port could not come quickly enough, Thor gratefully grasping it and finishing his first glass in two gulps. Heimdall dutifully poured another. Loki evidently was not trusted with this yet.

"You shouldn't worry so much," Odin said once they were alone. "I have come to terms with this."

For now, Thor added internally. But his father was stubborn. He might be being cunning, trying to make it be Thor's decision to decide it wasn't working. If he could not force them to be apart, he could drive a wedge between them, slowly but surely.

Well, that just made him all the more determined to make it work, to find compromises and make the effort. He read the newspaper as usual that evening, as though nothing was different. As though he wasn't at all wondering whether Loki would come to his bed that night.

He didn't want to push. It had to be Loki's choice. He shouldn't expect anything from him. He might be too tired after his first day back, or want to relax alone after dealing with so many people, and besides they had already spent some time together in the morning and...

"No word of our friend the Shadow, then?"

Thor was startled out of his own thoughts. He had been reading, but not really paying attention to what he was reading about. Politics, he thought.

"Um... Don't think so, no."

He tried his best not to sound guilty.

"Perhaps he's moved on once more," Odin said.

"Perhaps. We can only hope."

He turned the page deliberately and began reading of a proposed new tax on imported oats.

Did his father suspect? He was not stupid. He could easily have put two and two together and come up with Loki. This was dangerous.

And come to think of it, he had not asked Loki what Amora wanted from him, from them, in return for freedom. She surely could not have let them go so easily. There had to be something, and if Loki was keeping it a secret, well, that was even worse.

He still had such worries in his mind when he retired to bed, helping his father up the stairs.

No sign of anyone in his rooms. He tried not to be disappointed. Perhaps there were further duties downstairs that he was unaware of. Or maybe Loki had already gone to sleep. No expectations, he reminded himself. They had all the time in the world. There was no reason to rush.

Perhaps he sat up reading for longer than he generally did, his candle burning down more than normal, but it was worth it when the secret door creaked open and he got to look over at Loki's face. Tired, but mischievous.

"I trust everything was to my Lord's satisfaction this evening?"

"I'm much more satisfied now you're here."

"And not even out of my clothes or in your bed. I truly do have prodigious talents."

Thor smiled at him, trying to be careful with how he approached this.

"We don't have to do anything," he said. "But I feel better when you are here, even if we simply talk and hold one another."

Loki seemed amused, making a show of taking off his shirt, letting Thor see his poor arm clearly. It had healed well, but he would always bear the scar, the mark of his old career.

Thor folded himself around Loki's body when he slipped between the sheets, hand over his heart, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Is it nice to be back?" he asked softly.

"It's quite a learning curve. I don't believe I've ever seen quite so many shoes, let alone cleaned them."

It was there between them even as there was nothing between their skins, the tension of their different stations. And Thor had no idea what to say in response.

"Sif is nice enough," Loki said, as though he hadn't noticed the awkwardness. "Where does she come from?"

"Oh, I... I'm not sure. I believe she's an orphan, but that's all I know. She came after Mrs Eir left to get married. I've never asked much about her private life."

It wasn't that he didn't care, just, well, it was not his right to pry into her business. He felt very on the back foot now, unsure how to broach the question he wanted to.

"Amora let you go fairly easily then?" he asked, blurting it out.

"Mm. Our tale of thwarted love tugged at her heart strings in the end."

That seemed very unlikely. For a start, Thor wasn't sure she had a heart to have strings attached to.

"Are you sure? She's not going to suddenly come back and start making demands?"

Loki rolled over in his grasp and put a finger to his lips.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've handled it."

Thor let himself be kissed and tried not to fear that he was being lied to.


	57. Distraction

He was getting much too questioning and therefore Loki decided a nicer activity was in order. He pushed Thor onto his back and climbed aboard, straddling him, enjoying the way his hair flowed across the pillow like a golden halo.

"You mustn't worry about offending me by being my master," he said, running his hands up the valley of his chest. "After all, we both know that I'm in charge where it matters."

Was this too blatant? Would Thor see right through him? He certainly seemed a little reluctant, frowning slightly, but all the same, his breathing was quickening, his eyes darkening.

"Touch me," Loki said, leaning close and letting his hair tumble over his shoulder, free from its ties, humming as Thor ran his hands up his thighs, warm and firm.

It was nice to have time. It was nice to explore, to try different things on one another. Thor teased Loki's nipples with his thumbs, rubbing hard. Loki gently bit into his shoulder, enough to sting and leave a little mark, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. They sat entangled, clinging to one another.

"Do you have oil?" Loki asked.

"I... Yes. Yes, over here."

He practically whined as Loki rolled off him to begin getting out of the rest of his clothes.

"I have a theory," Loki said, taking Thor's oil from him, ignoring the fact that it was better quality than he generally cooked with for most of his life. "That I am still a more skilled rider than you."

Thor frowned slightly.

"Maybe, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything at present."

"Use your imagination, my darling."

It was wonderful to see Thor's eyes light up in realisation. He had probably only ever imagined sex in one position, or maybe standing against a wall in his wildest dreams. Or maybe not. It wasn't like they had ever talked about it as children.

And Loki had no intention of getting Thor's thoughts wander now he had his attention and tried to put on quite a show as he slipped one finger and then two into his body.

"May I?" Thor asked, reaching for the bottle.

"Please."

Yes, it was nice to lie back and let Thor handle the preparations, his thicker fingers working magic, though Loki was not looking forward to trying to clean these sheets tomorrow.

"I was so rough the first time," Thor murmured, sounding almost upset about it. "I could have hurt you."

"I wanted you to. I liked it."

"Why?"

What an odd question.

"Because I am a strange creature, Thor. I thought you knew that. Now lie back. Let me ride you."

He possibly wasn't quite ready, but he wasn't going to let that stop him, keeping his eyes clamped shut through the pain and letting gravity help him lower himself, down, down, down...

"Ah..."

"Do you need to stop?"

"No, just... Nmm, maybe more ambitious than I ought to have been. A few moments and I will be fine."

Thor was gazing up at him with wonder and just a hint of concern, stroking his sides gently. He was showing remarkable restraint, Loki thought, considering he had to be able to feel every twitch of Loki's body.

Steeling himself, Loki tested his limits by rocking his hips forward. So far, so good. He could build up a little rhythm, beginning to enjoy being filled, the sensation of being so close. And yet...

He leant back, steadying himself with a hand planted on the bed and tried to make the head of Thor's cock hit the right spot, right...

"You're so beautiful."

Thor's words made his eyes flutter open, smiling in surprise.

"Don't... Ah, don't think you have to speak prettily to me. You already have every inch of me. Or rather, I have every inch of you, perhaps."

"But it's true," Thor insisted, voice strained. "Taking what you want like this, so open and wanton. It makes me burn for you."

Whatever had he been reading to come up with such things to say? Ridiculous, really.

"I'm going to speed up to a trot now."

Thor chuckled and groaned, his head hitting the pillow, rolling his hips gently, almost matching every one of Loki's motions, but still obviously holding back.

"We can go faster, if you'd like?"

"No. No, I like this. After all, you don't always have to gallop to get where you're going. Though I might shift in the saddle a little."

Loki's protests about Thor being the horse in this metaphor were lost in his moan as Thor sat up, pulling him impossibly closer and deeper, pulling until his legs wrapped around his waist.

Thor fixed his lips to his neck, tiny, delicate kisses making his head spin, gripping hard to his back for leverage and finding the smallest around of friction against Thor's stomach, enough to make him desperate for more. He'd been being so steady and yet suddenly he needed...

A whimper escaped his throat as Thor wrapped a hand around his cock, gazing at him now with a strange intensity, as though he wanted nothing more than to see the moment of crisis.

"You first," Loki said between gasps.

"I'll follow. You are glorious like this."

Loki laughed, wanting to break the spell, to make a joke, but he was so full and his thighs ached from motion that he did not believe he could bear to stop for it was so good, not enough...

"I need..."

"What?"

He couldn't say it, pushing Thor back with all his weight, going as fast as he pleased and taking over the stroking of his own cock, forcing his muscles to hold out just a little longer, had to keep going, right there, so close...

The wait made it strong, leaving him crying out and gasping for air, his whole body twitching as he spilled over Thor's torso, marking him in some way, feeling the urge to go limp afterwards. But Thor was not finished.

"No," Thor said as he took a deep breath, preparing to bounce once more. "You'll hurt yourself. Lie down, I'm close."

Loki's protests were shortlived as Thor eased him onto his side and slipped his cock between his legs, using the oil to slick the way between his thighs.

It was still intimate to be held so, feeling every thrust of Thor's hot length, squeezing to make him moan and grip his hips all the harder, finally climaxing with a choked off cry.

And, of course, he did not have to rush away. He didn't have to move until the morning.

Maybe he regretted letting Thor trap him in an embrace when part of what he was murmuring as they drifted off to sleep made it clearly into his ears.

"Oh, Loki... How I wish I could trust you."

He pretended to be asleep and tried not to feel guilty.


	58. Trust Issues

There were many sensations that Thor might say were his favourite, excluding the obvious ones. There was the feeling of slipping between cool sheets on a hot summer's day. Removing an over-tight belt. Coming in out of the cold to blankets and a crackling fire. Having clean hair.

But he had never previously experienced the pleasure of a dear one being comfortable enough to sleep in his bed. The loosening of muscles, the steadying of breath, the little twitches in dreams. Yes, they would likely be sticky in the morning, but for now, Loki was perfect.

At least, mostly perfect. He surely couldn't think that he'd managed to put Thor's questions out of his head so easily. There was something he wasn't saying and Thor's whole being hurt to know it.

Why would he not say? Why was there not full trust between them?

It had to be something dangerous, something he wanted to protect Thor from. Or something he didn't want him to know about. More crime then.

Amora was involved, of that, he was sure. She would not have just let Loki go without a fight. There was something else happening here.

It made him uneasy to plot against his love, and yet he knew that Look would not involve him of his own volition. And so he would have to be cautious. Observe. Act as though he did not suspect anything, like he had been successfully distracted. And then take Loki by surprise if necessary.

That thought made him feel sick. More betrayal? Surely that would only drive a wedge between them.

He would have to tread carefully and try to plan his actions with such little information as he had as best he could.

Loki woke him with kisses, both of them in severe need of a wash, wiping each other's skin with touches that should not have been so shy considering what they had done together.

Time passed as steadily as ever and they became increasingly accustomed to their new lives. Thor was still uncomfortable sometimes, when Loki was pouring his drinks or especially taking his chamber pot out to the slop pail, but he always claimed that the reward of safety and love was worth it.

They spent almost every night in each other's arms, cuddling close. Sometimes with sex, but often just to kiss and talk. Sometimes Loki had been very busy and needed just to sleep and so stayed in his own bed. Sometimes Thor joined him to stroke his hair until he drifted off, but only with permission. He got the feeling that Loki needed to be alone sometimes in a way he did not.

He could not shake his suspicions though. Whenever Loki claimed to be too tired for even cuddles, he would go to the passage and walk the length of it before blowing out his candle and creeping back to listen. Just in case Loki was going out in the night.

Every time, he heard nothing and he burned with shame for his lack of faith.

They went riding and toured the estate together with Thor's father and Thor listened to all of Loki's ideas about how things could be improved and put many of them into practice, carefully noting in his ledgers whenever Loki had come up with something. He felt it was important somehow that whoever inherited the estate would know how much of a beneficial impact he had had. How much power he had, how clever and insightful he was.

His language was dry enough to avoid suspicion, but he wondered if one day some archivist would look upon these words and know that he had remained unmarried and how he and Loki Laufeyson had been so close and maybe they would wonder.

He wondered if they would live in a kinder time.

Autumn gave way to winter and Thor learned how cold Loki's hands grew in the chill weather. He asked about his gloves, the ones that had captivated him so. Loki shrugged and said he had disposed of them along with the rest of his things from his Shadow days. Didn't need anything recognisable in his new life, he said.

Thor had never had to buy a Christmas gift before. They celebrated with food and gave to charity. But Loki's poor hands, pink from the chill... It could not go on.

He had to sneak out while Loki was busy, of course. Make his way to the village store. Find the most elegant gloves he could, made from kid skin, supple and flexible and lined with soft wool for extra warmth. Perfect. He couldn't wait to see Loki's face on Christmas morning. Wearing them to church, flaunting their love in the subtlest of ways.

When he returned, cheeks pink from being outside, Heimdall had brought his post up to the office.

And there was a letter for Loki.

For a moment, Thor considered opening it. He could lie, say he'd make a mistake, not read the front and therefore not realised it wasn't for him. 

No. No, whatever his worries, he had no right.

Instead, he took it down to the kitchen to hand over in person.


	59. The Shadow's Last Ride

Loki still wasn't accustomed to the way the other servants would leap to their feet whoever Thor came down into the kitchen. It seemed to embarrass Thor for one thing, so he really wasn't sure who it was meant to benefit. Just the way things were done, he supposed. Force of habit.

But all the same, he stood up from the silver polishing he was helping with, a little surprised for Thor to be around downstairs during his usual working hours.

"A letter for you got mixed in with mine, Mr Laufeyson," he said, the formal tone strange on his lips.

"Thank you, sir."

He took the envelope, expensive-looking thick paper and tried to be subtle as he examined it. Amora's seal, unbroken. Thor would not know it by sight, of course, but he could probably deduce who had sent it. And Loki felt bad for immediately being suspicious that Thor might read his private letters when evidently, he had not.

"It's from my former employer," he said.

Thor gave a strange little bow, like nothing was amiss.

"I do hope she's not trying to lure you back into her service."

"Oh, even if she is, I like it too much here, sir."

Thor took his leave and Loki carefully put the note away, to read when he was alone. Not that Amora was likely to be obvious in her instructions, but you couldn't be too careful.

_My dear Laufeyson,_

_As requested, news of my safe arrival on the continent._

 _I am wed and my husband and I will be travelling to my estate to arrive in the early hours of Christmas Eve, even though this necessitates being aboard a carriage late into the night of the 23rd. Hardly ideal, but I very much want to be home in time for Christmas Day itself._

_I expect you are fully immersed in your new role, but should you find the time to visit me over the festive period, I would be glad to welcome you._

The meaning was clear. She wished for him to ambush her on the night if their return and frighten her husband to death. There was precious little time to prepare. He could still help himself in small ways, though. Not latching the stable so he could easily get out, sweeping most of the snow from the yard so as not to leave obvious hoof prints.

Which meant, in turn, that he was genuinely tired when Thor came through their hidden corridor on the night of the 23rd.

"Are you feeling alright?" Thor asked, radiating heat as always and it was so tempting to just cuddle into him. "You look a little pale."

"Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."

A warm smile. Oh, how betrayed he'd feel if he only knew!

"Goodnight, then. I'll see you in the morning."

Didn't even complain about Loki's chapped lips, though they couldn't feel nice, all rough and dry. He needed to get some kind of salve for them.

He listened as Thor's footsteps faded away and leapt out of bed. Quiet, quiet... He'd only kept the mask from his disguise, hidden with his small clothes where no one would look, his pistols too.

Maybe he'd keep those afterwards. You never knew when you might need them.

The house was almost eerily silent as he crept along to one of the other spare bedrooms, more cluttered now, no doubt with furniture taken from what was now his space. Still, all the better. He was able to easily climb up and get into the attic.

His teeth were instantly forced to grit as he felt the cold from the little open window. There would be ice. He'd have to be careful not to slip, both on the roof and the road.

Sleipnir wasn't able to express himself clearly all the time, but it was unmistakable that he did not like being saddled and forced out of his stall, breath misting in the freezing air.

The trees had afforded some shelter to the roads at least. No snow on them yet. And he knew just the route Amora would take, making it convenient for him rather than making him travel miles away from home.

At least he could get some warmth from Sleipnir as he waited, hands buried in his pockets, trying not to shiver or think of his warm bed waiting for him.

Hours must have gone by before a carriage rattled past, the curtains open to give him a glimpse of her. Definitely the right one. No chance of mistakes.

Nudging his sides made Sleipnir startle from a doze, whinnying loudly as they set off in pursuit.

"Your money or your life!"

The coach came to a halt far sooner than he would have expected. Perhaps she had told the driver to expect something like this and not to fight it.

A moment later, Loki would realise he should have started running then.

The door opened and Amora stepped out, drenched in furs that shone white in the moonlight, her golden hair turned silver in it.

Loki waited for her to speak, to act. Something. Scream maybe.

She sighed.

"I'm sorry, Loki. But I simply can't bear loose ends."

Her pistol gleamed from beneath her coat, cocked and ready. The betrayal hit Loki in the heart, his own foolishness in the gut. He should have seen this coming! He should have known!

At least he could face it with dignity, taking a deep breath, his eyes fixed to the muzzle of the gun as she aimed it at his head. At least it would be quick. He could not slowly bleed to death out here as he had always feared.

Poor Thor. Whatever would be think? Finding the room empty. Maybe Sleipnir wandering home, riderless. The eventual discovery of his corpse, unrecognisable, frozen out here. 

Oh, he'd be heartbroken.

He'd said he'd weep, hadn't he?

Loki just hoped he would forgive this last betrayal.

His lungs filled, eyes blinked back tears, simple vital things about to end, his heart pounding in his ears.

A shot rang out in the night.


	60. Following

Thor hated himself for listening at Loki's door. He had no right. And yet he couldn't help but shake his head as he heard the door click shut, heard him leaving, and knew he'd been correct in his assumptions.

Oh, Loki... Where was he going?

Thor doubled back, pulling his warmest coat out of his wardrobe. Did Loki have keys? Or would he finally get to see where the mysterious entry and exit point was?

He had a moment of panic when he slipped out of his own room. No sign of Loki down the stairs and he surely couldn't have gone already, even if he'd sprinted. But then he heard a door close further along the hall and rushed towards it, tiptoeing along the carpeted floor.

Listening again, the sound of Loki grunting lightly, something moving... When he finally felt brave enough to risk opening the door, he found a pile of furniture. He'd climbed into the attic, by the looks of things.

So there must be a way out up there.

He didn't bother trying to follow, but raced downstairs, grabbing the old pistols from the hall and trying to be as quiet as he could while unlocking the door.

He just caught the sight of Loki swinging down into the hayloft about the stable, like the shadow he took his name from, quick and silent. Thor hid, listening as Loki saddled Sleipnir, whispering to him, something about being sorry about the cold, just one night.

Mjölnir was evidently woken up too, stamping in her stall, angry to know what the disturbance was.

Good. He wouldn't have long to get her ready if he was to keep up, but if she was champing at the bit to follow her brother, that would be a lot easier.

He used Sleipnir's soft hoof falls to disguise his own footsteps as he rushed into the stable, Mjölnir butting him curiously. What was going on? What game was this? And did it really have to happen when it was so cold?

"Easy, girl..." he said as quietly as he could. "Come on. Shh..."

It was more difficult than he expected, steering a horse through the forest. He could not risk the road though. He could not risk Loki hearing or seeing him, not yet.

How their positions had changed! Had Loki once stalked him through the night like this? In any other situation, Thor supposed it might be thrilling. The chase, the sense of being unseen. But worry had settled deep into his stomach, a horrid ache that made him want to vomit or faint, chills in his body that had nothing to do with the weather.

Loki had been coerced, he was sure of it. This was neither a regular occurance, not something he was going into willingly. Whatever was in that letter from Amora must have spooked him, driven him out here.

And if he had not been coerced... No, Thor refused to let that thought enter his head. No suspicion without clear evidence.

His heart froze at one point when he became convinced Loki had seen him. He suddenly stopped dead, completely still, and so Thor stopped too, wide eyed as Loki eased Sleipnir off the road and into the undergrowth. He could still be seen, just, Sleipnir's pale flanks stark amongst the dark, spindly trees.

Hours seemed to pass and Thor was shivering, trying not to move too much as he pulled his coat tighter. At least there was no wind, but a little cloud cover might have done something to alleviate the cold.

The approaching carriage startled him, shaking him from the trance of cold, tired, upset that he had got into as it clattered by. Such late travel. Unusual, especially at this time of year.

He watched as Loki gave chase, easing Mjölnir through the woods once more, watching from several feet behind as the vehicle stopped and Amora stepped out of it.

Yes, of course. The robbery they had arranged to throw the scent from her. But Thor knew about that, so why would Loki hide it? They were speaking to one another, but even in the still air, he couldn't hear what they were saying.

He was still wondering what was happening when he saw the glint of Amora's weapon, his heart leaping into his throat, scrambling for one of his own pistols.

How long had it been since he'd tried to shoot? And with a pistol too... He used his rifle often enough, but this?

No time. No time to worry any more.

No time to think.

Aim.

Breathe.

Bang.


	61. Luck

The first thing Loki realised was that he was not dead.

The second was that Amora was screaming.

He blinked and stared as a strange dark shape began to spread on her furs, black as tar and moving rapidly.

Blood, his mind supplied. She was bleeding from the arm. How? Had her gun misfired and injured her? She had certainly dropped it, and fallen to the ground, screaming still. Perhaps it had taken merely seconds, but it had felt much longer to him.

Sleipnir was so calm. Unnervingly so, in fact. And Loki realised that though his own heart was thudding, he also felt strangely peaceful. Relieved, obviously. Mainly that. Watching almost in a state of shock as Amora's driver or henchman rushed around to try to help her up.

"She needs a doctor," he said vaguely. "And laudanum."

"How did you do it?" the man asked. "Your weapons aren't even cocked."

Loki looked down at his own hands in confusion. No, they weren't, were they? So he could not have shot her. It must have been an accident.

"She should clean her gun more often. It's dangerous otherwise."

Amora's sobs became words.

"You bastard... You lucky bastard."

Yes, he was, wasn't he? Despite all contrary evidence, it seemed God was favouring him of late.

"Where is your husband?"

"Dead in Dover. Got sick on the... Agh... On the way over."

So she'd murdered him. Poison, probably. Loki wished he was surprised. Which meant he had quite a decision to make.

"I should kill you," he said thoughtfully, hands still loosely gripping his pistols. "Self-defence."

She groaned, gripping her injured arm, blood seeping from under her fingers. Funny. It was almost exactly the same as the injury he had.

"Don't..." she whispered. "Please, don't."

In truth, he didn't really want to. Not like this when she was wounded and bleeding. But she was a danger to him all the same...

"Your life for mine," he said. "An equal trade. I never want to see you again, and I trust that the feeling is entirely mutual."

The threat hung in the air between them. Mutual destruction. But they could both choose another path. Another way, another life.

She shivered visibly. From cold or fear, he wasn't sure.

"It seems I do not have any choice."

Well, that was one way of looking at it.

"Go home," Loki said. "Tend to your wounds. I'd say it was pleasant being your acquaintance, but, well..."

"At least I was an adventure. I thought that was all you really wanted."

Loki thought about the happy domesticity he was returning to, a peaceful life he'd believed was robbed from him, and marvelled at how wrong she was. He'd had his fill of life or death. Life was waiting for him.

He watched as she was helped into her carriage and driven off. Only then did he feel the risk that had just befallen him, how close he had been to the end... It almost didn't seem real.

There was a rustling behind him, a startling sound, hands gripping his pistols once more as he whirled round and...

"It's me. Darling, it's me."

"Thor?"

Well, that proved it, surely. He was dreaming this. He had fallen asleep and dreamt this resolution. How else could his love be here?

Thor leapt from Mjölnir's back, breath misting in great clouds, reaching for him, helping him down and holding him so tightly that his ribs ached.

"I was so scared," he babbled, voice thick like he was holding back tears. "You left and I followed and then she... You could have been killed!"

It was nice to be cared for so much, but Loki still bristled a little at the implications of what Thor had just said.

"You followed me? You spied on me?"

"And lucky I did for I prevented your murder."

Loki frowned and considered how unlikely it had been for Amora to make a mistake as she apparently had. He thought about how her arm had jerked to the side, her gun smoking... If someone else had fired at just the right moment, if the sounds had covered one another...

He stepped away from Thor for a moment, trying to judge where it would have flown, where it would have hit the trees behind him.

It took a while in the dark, but finally his fingers found a distinctive entrance would in a fine birch. A bullet wound. 

"She missed," he said, stupefied.

"I missed, more like," Thor insisted. "I was aiming for her heart."

Loki tried to take stock of his emotions. On the one hand, this was a gross betrayal of trust. Thor had no right to follow him around as he did his private business. But on the other hand, he had saved his life and now they were both here and vital and warm...

"Let's go home," he said abruptly. "I want to go home."

They rode back in silence, both lost in thought, it seemed.

"You're angry with me," Thor murmured finally as they stabled their poor tired horses.

"Of course I am. You didn't trust me."

"You proved that I was right not to. You could have just spoken to me. I would have no secrets between us. I felt so guilty of my suspicions, but I cannot regret what I did. Not when it has safely returned you to me. I believe I would die if I lost you again."

That was all very well and romantic, but Loki could not be so easily satisfied.

"You must earn back my trust," he said. "And that may be difficult. Have patience. And now we are tired and frozen and in need of a bed. Further discussion can wait until tomorrow, I think."

He knew he shouldn't sleep in Thor's bed I'd he was making a point of his anger, but he was cold and the reality of what had passed was beginning to kick in. He needed to be grounded, held, have Thor blow warm breath onto his hands and massage life into them once more. He needed to be near something living.

Maybe in the morning, he would decide how he felt about Thor's actions. After all, he already knew how he felt about Thor as a man.


	62. Giving

Thor lay awake almost all night. He was terrified that if he slept, Loki would vanish. He needed to feel his breathing and his heartbeat, to prove he was still alive and safe.

But that meant he also had to think about what he'd done. He meant what he'd said, that he could not feel anything but relief at how he had been able to save his love, but now there was mutual mistrust between them which needed to be fixed.

But how?

He was going to have to step back and give Loki space. Even though he didn't want to.

Then again, his biggest fear had materialised. Amora had returned and Loki had hidden it from him. So perhaps that danger was passed now? Or at least maybe he could be convinced to talk to him about the risks now. They were a team, were they not? Or at least, he hoped they were.

There was something ironic here. Loki wanted equality and Thor wanted openness. Neither of them could give the other what they wanted, Thor because of society and Loki for safety. After all, he was far better skilled in such dangerous business. Taking along a second person, one he cared about, was only a liability.

He'd have to do better. Consciously do better. So that Loki would want to talk to him.

He must have fallen asleep eventually, for he woke when Loki stirred, reflexively pulling him close.

"No..."

Loki laughed sleepily, rolling over to nuzzle into his chest. His hands were still cold somehow, like they hadn't been safely tucked under a blanket for hours.

"It's already nearly light," he pointed out. "We're very late. You'll cause a scandal if you don't get up soon."

He was right, but that didn't mean Thor had to like it.

"Are you well?" he asked. "Are... Are you angry with me?"

Loki sighed.

"Yes and yes. But you're very lucky. You are very soft and warm and comfortable and I love you. All the same, you betrayed me. You didn't trust me. So... So I am angry but I feel... something else. I'm not sure what. But it's nice."

That was good? Possibly. And it was Christmas Eve, so Loki was right. He had things to do. They both did.

"After church tonight," Thor said. "Will you be here with me?"

Loki propped himself up on his elbow, one eyebrow raised.

"Well... It's very cold and you are very warm..."

That didn't seem like a proper answer, but Thor was in no mood to argue. He sat up to share a kiss or two and finally hauled himself out of bed to get dressed.

"I shall try to be extra warm, if you desire it."

There wasn't a great deal of actual work for him to do, what with most farming work being impossible with the ground frozen so, but there was the traditional Christmas charity to be given. Even when they had been in reduced circumstances, they had still had vastly more than most. It was important.

And Thor was also acutely aware that this was one of the busiest times for the household. He didn't particularly feel comfortable with the amount of food provided for just two days, but he knew the staff ate anything leftover, or gave it to friends and family. It was something at least.

But he could do more. He ought to do more. Now they had rebuild from the harder times, it was right to help others.

Heimdall and his father might pooh-pooh such an idea if he asked their opinion but maybe Sif...

He found her making the most of what little light there was at this time of year, sitting by the window to do her own accounts which would then be sent above stairs to be included in the rain ones. Thor had stopped checking them years ago. They were always entirely correct.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said, motioning for her to sit down. "I just need to ask you a question."

She inclined her head slightly, looking a little bulkier than normal with her thick, woollen winter underclothes.

"Have you any... That is, if there was to be a cause you wanted to support, which would it be?"

Her answer was immediate.

"Why, the orphanage of course, sir. The place that raised me and taught me how to run a household. Without them, I wouldn't be here."

Thor felt a sudden pang of worry. An orphanage that taught children to work?

"Not a workhouse?"

She laughed, softly though, as if she didn't really find it funny.

"Not as you're thinking, sir. It was more like a school. They taught me to read and write, and arithmetic. Practical tasks. And then in turn I taught others for a time before Mr Heimdall came and chose me to come and be housekeeper here. But I've never forgotten where I came from, or how lucky I was to have been left there after my mother died."

He'd never asked. Never wanted to upset her by speaking of it without permission.

"I'm sorry," he said, for want of anything else to say.

"We must find blessings even in hardships, sir. She died in poverty. I have a job and a safe place to sleep, food to eat, skills with which to earn a living. The orphanage gave me those skills. So if I had a cause, it would be to help them help the next child placed on their doorstep."

It was such a personal thing that Thor almost felt uncomfortable saying what he did next.

"I've been thinking that donating to charity at Christmas is all very well, but that I ought to do more. Perhaps I could... become a patron of the school. Even if it helps just one child."

He was afraid she would be offended. That she would feel patronised and belittled by his actions, how easily he could give money. But surely giving was better than keeping.

Instead, her eyes filled with tears and she stood with a scrape of her chair.

"Thank you, sir. That's very generous of you."

He hesitated before hugging her. It wasn't proper, but there was no one else around to see and it felt like the right thing to do.

And in the back of his mind, he was suddenly considering the future. He was unlikely to have children of his own after all, but perhaps he could take on a ward. A young person with the necessary skills to run the estate, one with compassion and empathy, who would not forget where he had come from.

It was a nice idea, but maybe for further consideration for the future. These things should not be rushed into, not when Loki was so recently returned to him.

He felt better informing his father of his new charitable plans over supper, later than usual in preparation of the late church service. He had calculated what he felt was a very manageable monthly sum.

It was more surprising when his father suggested they could afford to give a little more.

"You remind me of your mother at times like these," he said. "You don't know how comforting that is at this cold time of year."

Thor glanced at Loki, the way he blushed slightly when he caught his gaze, and considered how fortunate he was to still have him, the promise of companionship, the promise to try to work through their problems together.

"To loved ones," he said, raising his glass.

When Heimdall wasn't looking, he definitely saw Loki sneak a sip of wine. Toasting with him.

It made his heart swell.


	63. The Present

Loki's churchgoing had lapsed rather during his time as the Shadow. He still wasn't quite used to it since his return to Asgard, feeling that his immortal soul was being examined and knowing it would be found wanting.

However, he couldn't help but be distracted as he listened to the good news about Jesus' birth and mumbled his way through half-forgotten hymns. He'd been thinking things over throughout the day. He loved Thor and Thor loved him and, no, that was not enough to solve all their problems, but it was a fairly solid foundation. They needed to plant seeds of trust and openness and let them grow.

They had years to find their way together. Years to let their hearts fit around each other.

And to his surprise, he was ready for it. Ready to wake beside Thor more often than not, ready to soothe his worries about their differing stations in life, ready to allow himself to be indulged and spoiled, ready to face the future together.

He was excited to return home, where Thor would be waiting for him having gone back in the carriage with his father. They were young and alive and together. So few people got to be so fortunate.

Entering his room and peeling off his wet clothes felt wonderful, even though his fire was not lit.

And then he saw the parcel on his pillow.

For a second, his desire to look wrestled with his desire to delay the discovery, which in turn wrestled with sudden embarrassment. Thor had brought him a gift and he had nothing to give in return.

He shivered a little, pulling on a nightshirt and taking the package with him through the secret passageway.

Thor's room was warmer, his fire crackling in welcome, colouring everything in a gentle orange glow. It caught Thor's hair and skin, as though the sun had blessed him, sitting up in bed without a stitch on his upper half at least.

Loki held out his paper burden, stammering.

"You got me a gift."

Thor smiled.

"Well, yes. It's Christmas."

"I didn't... I didn't know you were..."

Thor slipped out of bed and went to him, revealing himself to be completely naked, taking him by the shoulders.

"You are here with me and that is the best gift imaginable. But, well... It's Christmas morning. I thought maybe..."

He looked so hopeful. Eager to see how he would like his present. And so Loki took a deep breath and pulled on the string holding it closed, letting its contents fall into his open palm.

Gloves. Beautiful gloves, brown and soft leather, finer even than the ones he used to wear.

"Your hands have been so cold," Thor said. "And, well, I love your hands so much. I wanted to protect them, and I..."

Loki quieted him with a kiss. It was so thoughtful and practical, so Thor all over.

"Thank you. I love them. And I love you."

And he wanted to show it. He wanted to demonstrate his affection and his feelings as passionately as possibly.

Especially because his brain was helpfully pointing out that Thor's thighs had been distinctly and interestingly shiny when he glimpsed them...

"Maybe there is something I can give you."

Thor laughed, resting their foreheads together. So open and comfortable in the moment. So utterly free from falsehood and dishonesty. For all he had committed that breach of trust - which was like a little stone somewhere in Loki's gut, but a little one rather than a brick - it had genuinely been from a place of concern for his safety. And he seemed genuinely remorseful.

But maybe he ought to let him stew just a little longer...

"Did you get ready for me?" he murmured, voice doing low.

"Mm. I had time."

"Well... why don't you get on the bed and wait for me?"

He may not wash Thor's clothes, but he often pressed them and carried them upstairs, put them away. He knew exactly where to find the tools he wanted in the drawer with the cravats, putting his new gloves carefully on top of the chest.

"Arms above your head, darling."

He loved the look in Thor's eyes, the want, the adoration, everything he'd never thought he'd have. The surrender he'd loved so much. Letting himself be tied by the wrists to the headboard, putting his pleasure entirely in Loki's hands.

Not that he was going to deal with that right away, of course.

No, first of all, he was going to enjoy looking for a while. Not too long. The cold was still creeping in despite the fire. A little rigorous activity would likely help a lot.

He ran his hands over Thor's body, knowing the chill of his fingers would provide an interesting sensation. He might have considered wearing the gloves but, well, such fine things might not survive rough treatment or stains. Best to keep them nice.

Thor shivered as he ran a single finger under his chin, along the soft flesh of his inner arm, all the way up to his wrist, almost tickling him. And then down, over his chest and stomach, down and down, skirting his erection and reaching between his legs.

A whine, arching upwards in need and Loki was only too happy to give him what he thought he needed. He rubbed within Thor with two fingers, crooked upwards to find the right place, drawing things out all the more.

More whining, arms straining against the soft ties, trying to hook his legs around Loki's body and pull him close. So much need and desire, such determination to get what he wanted.

Maybe Loki should give it to him.

But he wanted more contact. He wanted to lie completely skin to skin, to absorb the warmth from Thor's body.

He lay down, capturing Thor's lips and only reaching down to line up and begin pushing inside, gently and carefully. The yielding was incredible, how readily Thor's body opened for him, angling his hips upwards to make it easier.

They were strangely quiet, only gasps and little breathy moans echoing round the room as Loki found a rhythm of long, deep strokes, like steady waves crashing against a parched shore.

They had done this more than a dozen times, and if Loki was honest while he enjoyed the heavy rush and the irresistible pull of want, have, satisfy, it was more what it meant than the act itself that pleased him. Here they were, sinning together on a holy day, each of them offering their entire selves to one another, body but more importantly soul too.

There was truth here. Something he had been sorely lacking for too long.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to hide his face.

"Uh?"

What for, Thor meant. And there were no words to express it properly. He couldn't say. Sorry for hiding, for doubting. For getting himself into more trouble. For being unable to receive affection without trying to make light of it.

For being unable to fully forgive, no matter how much he wanted to. Not yet.

Instead, he found Thor's mouth again, tried to pour all his feelings into a kiss as he wrapped a hand clumsily around Thor's cock and began stroking in the way he'd learned Thor liked - a tighter grip than he preferred, but slower passes, strong and steady.

Thor spilled with something close to a whimper, an outpouring of sensation, gasping for air against Loki's lips.

"Finish," he said. "Loki, please..."

It didn't take long. Not when he was so full of emotion and feeling, wanting nothing more than to hit his peak and fall forward into Thor's arms, to be kissed gently and held beneath the blankets, safe and warm.

Of course, that meant untying the cravats but in the immediate aftermath there was little he could do but kiss whatever skin he could reach.

"I ought to be apologising to you," Thor said, eyes closed. "You have sacrificed so much to be with me."

Loki thought about the future Thor might have had. He might have been happy. They both might have.

But as happy as they were together? Of that, he wasn't so sure.

"I think it was worth it," he said.


	64. The Future

Things weren't always as perfect as seeing Loki with snowflakes in his hair and candlelight in his eyes and Thor's gloves on his beautiful hands. They couldn't be. They fought sometimes, argued about the stupidest things, made each other want to tear out their hair... But those were exceptions to a generally happy life together.

Thor didn't want to admit it, but things became a bit easier when his father passed four years after Loki had returned and again when Heimdall elected to retire to a cottage by the sea not long afterwards. Not that he welcomed either event. It had been bad enough having to bury his only remaining family, to have to take on the responsibility that came from being the head of the household in name as well as practice, but to say goodbye to his other father figure too... It hit him harder than he expected.

At least his father had had his health, or what remained of it. And it was peaceful in the end. And he was fortunate to have Loki there to hold him as he broke a little and to support him as he tried to rebuild his sense of self in this strange world with a gap where Odin used to be.

With only his own needs to worry about, he didn't feel the need to employ a new butler. Sif would be in charge of the house. She could handle it, easily. Which did mean he and Loki were suddenly the only two men in the house, but that didn't bother them. Their love was an open secret amongst the staff, and higher wages than the average rate meant no one felt the need to tell anyone outside.

One of their biggest fights came when Thor suggested to Loki that there was no reason for him to work as hard as he did. He didn't have to take on so much. Alas, rather than the attempt at levelling it was, Loki interpreted it as a rejection.

"So, I'm of no use to you except as a convenient companion, is that it?"

"Loki, you are twisting my words, as usual."

Mistake. Mistake!

"As usual? Then how exactly did you mean 'I don't need you'?"

"I said I didn't need you to shine my shoes or anything like that! You know I need you."

They had carried on for over an hour before Thor had been reduced to dropping to his knees to beg forgiveness in the best way he knew how. Afterwards he wondered if he'd been played, but somehow he didn't mind.

And Loki found a different role in time. He joined Thor in whatever he was doing, whether office work or out on the estate. Much more a very close second in command than a valet.

They even ate together, though no one else knew it, and such a beautiful, domestic, tame secret thrilled Thor in ways that no number of illicit trysts could.

Of course, that meant Loki had to pretend to have a small appetite since he would eat part of Thor's dinner - always too much for him to handle alone - and then be expected to eat another one downstairs afterwards. He complained bitterly about how his body was softening until Thor was forced to ensure the two of them had regular bouts of strenuous exercise.

It wasn't always perfect, but it was close enough.

All the same, he thought they both breathed a sigh of relief when they heard Amora was forced to flee to the continent. She'd been sloppy, had been spotted taking something from a grand house and then her own property had been searched with dozens of stolen trinkets discovered.

It was lucky they hadn't found the wound on her arm. She might really have been in trouble, then. Every so often there would be speculation about the Shadow's whereabouts, whether he yet lived, his identity. None of them ever got close. It was almost fun reading all the guesses.

Loki would joke about writing his memoirs one day, but he didn't even seem to like talking about that time. Apparently it wasn't as romantic as the papers made it seem.

And they did make it seem romantic. Ten years later and not only was Sleipnir portrayed as an enormous red charger, he was named everything from Lucifer to Ruby. So different to the gentle horse Thor got to know again. He was certain his presence started to mellow Mjölnir as well. Or maybe she was just calmer in her dotage, still demanding sour apples even when she was much too frail to be ridden. Plenty families did not treat their elderly relatives with as much care as he and Loki showered upon their horses.

Strangely enough, it had been the new foals they were obliged to buy that made Thor think of his idea about the school from so long ago anew. Seeing how playful they were, gambolling as Loki tried to accustom them to bridles and saddles, walking them in circles in the courtyard. Training them. Teaching them.

Were they ready for a ward? For someone younger to come and learn how to run the estate, how to handle all the expenses, how to be cautious but kind with all who lived and worked there?

How would they cope?

How would they explain what they were to one another to a young person without causing a scandal? Thor had no intention of hiding in his own home any more than he already did.

What if Loki didn't like the idea?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

When Loki sat down beside him that evening, taking up the single set of cutlery they shared, Thor cleared his throat.

"Darling... I've been thinking. About the future."

Loki raised an eyebrow, waiting. Thor tried to organise his thoughts. Why did this feel so momentus?

"One day, I will need someone to take over the estate. A new generation, as it were."

Loki put the knife and fork down, hard, and stood up from his chair.

"I should have known," he said. "Should have known this was coming."

Thor watched him pace, confused.

"You did?"

"Of course. You want to take a wife."

It was so unexpected that Thor found himself laughing. Really? Was that really what his mind jumped to?

He shouldn't make fun. Loki needed reassurance and, as always, he was only too happy to provide.

Leaping to his feet, he rushed to Loki's side, turning him to face him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

"No," he said softly. "I have no intention of anything like that. Why would I when I have my life's love in my arms right now? No, I was asking... I have an idea that we - you and I - ought to teach someone to take on the estate once we are gone. I thought we could take on a ward."

He waited for Loki's reaction.

"What a ridiculous notion," was not at all what he expected to hear. "A ward? A child? The planning involved for that will be immense, not to mention how it will overturn the whole household. And you were thinking of it without consulting me? Oh, Thor, no, this is going to require much more scrutiny. A fine plan, but a plan is not the same as the reality of it..."

Thor could do nothing but smile and try to kiss his rushing thoughts away.

One upon a time, his kisses had been stolen.

Now, though, he gave them freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we go. I hope you enjoyed the ending and thank you so much for reading and for all your comments along the way.
> 
> Considering I only had up to around the masked ball planned, the rest turned out reasonably well I think.
> 
> As for my own future, I am writing a new thing (it's a ghost hunting story with a Mulder and Scully vibe where Thor is a *true believer* and Loki is a local doing his best not to roll his eyes 24/7) but I literally just started it, so expect that next month maybe depending on how quickly the plot grows.


End file.
